Revelation
by vault of glass
Summary: And to think Leah and Charon had assumed all their problems were over... Enclave or not, the Wasteland still has a few surprises left over for them. Sequel to "Hired Help"
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

**

* * *

**

And the earth will become desolate because of her inhabitants, on account of the fruit of their deeds.

Micah 7:13

* * *

"Hurry, smoothskin!"

"I'm going as fast as I can, damn it!" the Lone Wanderer screamed back, fingers flying furiously across the keyboard of a dying terminal. The ghoul beside her defended her with a massive shotgun, killing Enclave soldier after Enclave soldier who advanced upon them. The stream of men seemed never-ending, and his strength was quickly dwindling—along with his ammo. He knocked another soldier onto his back and shot him to a swift death, glancing over his shoulder with a snarl of concern.

"Done!" the girl cried, quickly turning away from the screen. Arched brows lifted in exhilaration, sun-kissed cheeks pinked, blue eyes exuberant and wild. She'd never looked more crazy or more fucking beautiful. "Let's go!" she yelled, grabbing him by the hand. They sprinted to a door at the end of a long hallway amid gunfire, explosions, and the shrieks of dying men. She took a running start and jumped to kick the door open with her boot. They broke out into the electric night air, charged with violence, and stumbled to a stop on a virtibird pad. The Vault Girl tossed a grenade down the hall behind them and slammed the door shut, the ghoul pressing his weight against the metal so that the men inside were trapped when the explosion went off.

The distant, beating sound of an approaching vertibird had them both on edge. The girl pulled a large Tesla Cannon from her back and prepared herself, waiting, ready for anything. Explosions went off on a nearby platform, sending the two scrambling to stay on their feet. The ghoul grabbed her protectively and held his shotgun up.

The great black form of the vertibird came tearing down through the waves of smoke and flashes of red from laser weapons. A blonde woman poked her head out and held forward a metal-clad arm. "Get the fuck onto this 'bird before we all blow up!"

The ghoul hastily lifted his smoothskin into the vertibird before leaping up behind her, his feet dangling as the pilot took off. The two women pulled him safely into the vertibird and they stared back at the rooftop as soldiers burst out of the door and filed out onto the landing pad.

"That . . . was too close," the ghoul panted, shaking his head as Vault Girl let out a trill of laughter.

"God damn, you're amazing!" she cried as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Come on, guys, at least wait 'til we get back to the Citadel to celebrate. Besides, you're going to miss the fireworks."

The couple broke apart and peered out to see that yes, indeed, the vertibird was descending onto a landing pad a safe distance away from the air force base. The blonde quirked a smile at them and dropped out of the vertibird before it had even landed. The ghoul jumped down as well, turning to help Vault Girl down beside him. He slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close as the three turned toward the base. In the distance, the buildings were alight with the glow from plasma grenades and energy lasers. The ghoul pressed his lips to his girl's temple, chuckling against her sweat-slick skin. It was enough to make anyone laugh as she clutched at the straps of his armor in excitement. She was wearing one of her stupid, goofy grins in her triumph.

"Get ready, you lovebirds," the blonde said with a laugh of her own. "You won't get any scene more romantic than this one in this shithole of a world."

Bursts of blue light erupted in the night sky, materializing into the determined streams of missiles headed straight for the air force base. They soared through the air like majestic dancers, trailing pathways of brilliant light, before they finally made contact with the main building.

The barrage ensued.

Missile after missile hit the buildings, sending tremors through the ground beneath the spectators' feet, demolishing the air force base and summoning huge plumes of smoke and rubble. Each burst could clearly be seen through the haze as they hit the ground and pummeled all record of Enclave forces at the air force base into nothing more than memories.

The sound hit them quickly after in a wave of force and wind, whipping Vault Girl's hair back from her face, exposing her maniacal grin for all to see as the ear-shattering _BOOM_ resounded around them.

And then the night fell silent once more, the only evidence of destruction the distant smoke clouds mushrooming up into the sky. The Lone Wanderer let out a whoop and erupted into what had to be the most deserved victory dance in the history of victory dances. Her ghoul quickly interrupted by grasping her face with his hands and kissing her so hard she saw stars. He pressed two more, sweeter kisses to her lips and grinned down at her breathlessly smiling face.

"Come on, you two! Back to the Citadel!"

The ghoul ducked and grabbed Vault Girl, throwing her over his shoulder and lifting her back up onto the vertibird.

When they reached the Citadel, the Lone Wanderer led her ghoul by the hand running through the courtyard, sprinting through labs and hallways and kitchens to reach their room, their laughter trailing after them like ghosts. They burst through the door, clumsy with passion, legs intertwined, hands tangled in hair and fisted in shirts. He picked her up and they tumbled onto the bed all arms and legs, their lips meeting somewhere in the transition.

Their explosion had shattered the night air with light and sound, made the ground quiver beneath their feet.

Their lovemaking blew it right out of the water.


	2. And You Smell Like One, Too

July 13, 2280

The Last, Best Hope of Humanity exhaled smoke, watched it swirl and linger in the stale air of the old bar. Her extensive medical knowledge had once led her to hating the small, white and yellow cylinders. And yet here she was, sucking smoke into her body, because deep down she knew if Gatling lasers, super mutants, and stab wounds couldn't kill her, she was going to be just fine.

Leah curled up on one of the battered chairs stuffed into the corner of Gob's saloon, tanned arms perspiring slightly in the radiating heat. She'd slipped on the loosest and least-constricting tank-top she had, having already been frustrated by her two-century-old life partner that morning. Charon had woken her up with a warm kiss, tangled their bodies together, then grabbed his clothes and left, assuring her that he would be back by evening, Dogmeat trailing dutifully after his heels.

After questioning every single person in Megaton who had any affiliation whatsoever with the offending ghoul, Leah had come to the conclusion that they were all rat bastards and they were all in on whatever surprise Charon was trying to come up with. So she'd committed herself to sulking in the corner with a box of cigarettes and a bottle of whiskey until _somebody_ caved.

It hadn't happened yet.

No, everybody went about their day as if it were _totally normal_ for Charon to keep something from his smoothskin and run off like the day she'd freed him. It gave her flashbacks; she felt like a PTSD sufferer just thinking about it, the memories making her sweat even more.

Joseph was sitting in the opposite chair, head bent low over a rifle he'd taken apart on the table between them. She'd drilled him until he'd clamped his mouth shut and wouldn't say another damn word until she changed the subject. Damn kid was as loyal to Charon as the latter had been to his contract-holders—Leah shuddered. It hurt to think about that, no matter how long ago it had been.

Besides, Leah could hardly call Joseph a 'kid' anymore. He was steadily reaching for six feet of height and his curiosity had only grown with age. He was ruthlessly intelligent. He hated bandying around with idle chatter and just wanted to get to the heart of things.

Joseph looked up, noticing her intense gaze on him. "What's up?" he asked as he dusted dirt from his hands.

"Oh, nothing," she sighed, slouching down in her chair and tapping ash into a tray on the table. "Bored as hell."

"Not the same without gramps around, huh?" He laughed as she scowled.

"Whatever, loser. You're just jealous I have somebody to tangle around in the sheets with."

Joseph openly grimaced and clapped a hand over his mouth as if to stop himself from vomiting. He added a few very convincing retching sounds for effect. "Oh, God, Leah. Please – I can't take the mental image –,"

Leah snorted a laugh and stubbed her cigarette out. "All right, all right, you little smart ass."

"Besides," Joseph said, dropping all pretenses of disgust, his voice becoming overly casual and piquing Leah's suspicion at once. "I might have someone like that in the future sometime soon."

Leah nearly spilled her bottle of whiskey as she shot up in her chair. "Who?" she demanded excitedly.

"Jesus, keep it down," he snapped quickly, shaking a hand to gesture her voice to a quieter level. He glanced around, paranoid, and looked back at her once he was certain no one had heard her. "Just . . . a girl I met. You'll figure it out, but I don't want to name any names."

Leah harumph'ed and dropped back into her seat. "All right. Well, I wish you luck. Don't knock her up, though, I swear to God, Joseph, if you get some girl pregnant, I'm not –,"

"Oh, my God, you never shut up," he griped, sliding the last piece of his rifle back into place. He glanced back up at her, took her in inch by inch, eyes falling onto the tattoo on the flat of her shoulder: three numbers scrawled in elegant script. "What's twenty-one-colon-six?"

Leah blanched and she followed his gaze. "It's twenty-one-six. Revelation twenty-one-six. 'And he said to me, I am Alpha and Omega. I will give unto him who is athirst of the fountain of the waters of life freely.' It was my mother's favorite passage, and my father would tell it to me all the time," she explained in a _too_-aloof tone.

"You must have loved them a lot, to get that tattooed on yourself," Joseph observed shrewdly.

She shrugged and looked down at her hands. "I loved my father very much. I never knew my mother."

"I've heard the story," he agreed, still eyeing her curiously. "I never knew my family. Well, I knew my sister. But she's gone now."

"Gone?" Leah's head snapped up and her eyes narrowed into slits. "What do you mean, gone? Why did you never tell me about this before?"

He rolled his eyes, setting his rifle down. His gaze flickered back and forth, thoughtfully, constructing sentences in his head—something he'd picked up from Leah, this verbal caution. He'd learned to be as conservative with words as he was with bullets "Because I knew you'd overreact. I'm ninety-percent certain that she's dead, Leah. Don't get all heroic on me. Slavers took her and two other Little Lamplight children away over three years ago. I stumbled into the Wasteland and looked for them for days, to no avail."

Leah let another moment of silence slide between them as she prepared her own barrage. "That may be what you assume, Joseph, but people don't kill slaves."

Joe's brow twitched in obvious discomfort and his hands whiteknuckled the rifle in his grasp. "Just _drop it_, Leah," he insisted, fire glinting in his dark eyes. "Really, just fucking drop it."

Never once had Joseph cursed at her. Leah blinked, taken aback, before she slowly nodded and filed that information away for later. She and Charon would travel the entire fucking Wasteland to find that girl. Whatever it took, they would gladly sacrifice, because Joseph was their family now. As well as RJ. The boys had been old enough to come along with them on their adventures. They'd learned and grown and evolved into arrogant little sons of bitches—with a role model like Charon, overconfidence was only to be expected.

"Gob?" Leah called in a hashed-up attempt to dispel the new tension in the small section of the saloon. She climbed to her feet and stretched, cracking the muscles in her back, before wandering over to perch on a barstool.

The bartender put down a glass—he was _always_ cleaning glasses—and cocked the remains of an eyebrow at the smoothskin. "What do you want, kid?"

"Where's RJ?"

"Hopefully running with knives, or playing around on unstable rooftops somewhere."

"Oh, don't play like you don't like him. You agreed to put them up for us."

"_Nova_ agreed to put them up."

"And you agreed that a month without sex just wasn't worth it," the ex-whore's purring voice interjected as she came forward and leaned over the bar to flutter her eyelashes at her ghoul.

Gob sighed and touched her face, shaking his head. "What you smoothskins do to us ghouls. You should be arrested for it."

"You'd take that back if you saw what Charon did to me last night," Leah teased with a spark twinkling in her blue eyes. She lowered her voice to whisper, "You'd switch that sentence around in a heartbeat."

Nova sighed as Gob let out a wild cackle. "That man is a wild beast, I swear it!" he roared in laughter. He'd gotten over his previous aversion to the bigger ghoul after seeing him so desolate and broken at Leah's absence. It had become quite clear at that moment how much he cared about her and would walk to the ends of the world for her.

Leah's pink lips were just curling up into a reply when the saloon door was slammed open. They all turned at once to glare at the figure silhouetted against the setting sun outside.

"Who –," Gob began, but the man stepped inside and his identity became clear once he had come into the artificial bar lighting.

"QUINN!" Leah screamed, throwing herself from her stool and lunging across the distance to throw her arms around the ghoul. "What are you doing here? Oh, my God, it's so good to see you!"

"Good to see you, too, smoothskin," the trader laughed, patting her back. "It's been a while. Had to stop by on this day of all days."

Leah pulled away, frowning. "What do you –,"

"Smoothskin," another raspy voice interrupted and her mind instantly erupted into bliss as she peeked past the short ghoul to see the love of her life standing in the doorway with a smirk to match his normal arrogance. She skirted Quinn and marched determinedly forward to shove him hard in the chest, scowling.

"And where the hell have _you_ been all day?" she insisted loudly, ignoring Dogmeat as the canine trotted in and rubbed up against her legs.

"Retrieving Quinn, of course," Charon replied easily, taking her hands in his despite her struggles. He leaned in close so that his lips grazed her ear. "Happy birthday, my smoothskin."

He realized the instant she froze against him that she'd had no idea whatsoever what day it was. He took a quick glance at her face to see her expression wiped like a blank slate. "Did you genuinely forget your own birthday, Leah?" he asked gently.

"I've had other things on my mind," she confessed, looking embarrassed. "I take back my anger at you. I can't believe _you_ remembered."

He laughed and picked her up into a long and passionate kiss before setting her back on her feet. "I was off at Underworld, dragging Quinn back to see you."

Quinn beamed at her when she turned, as if confirming Charon's statement. "I came at once. I needed to run another route anyways. I also . . . erm," he cleared his throat, "wanted to see a certain smoothskin."

Leah's smile turned devilish. "You can come see me later. You have priorities, my friend."

Quinn smiled gratefully at her and slid out of the saloon and into the evening air. Charon perked an eyebrow at his smoothskin, who laughed. "You seriously never knew he was fucking Moira? God, you can be dense sometimes, Charon."

He growled threateningly and slid his bag to the ground. "You are lucky it is your birthday, smoothskin, or else I would punish you for that statement."

Leah slipped her body close to his. Her voice tickled his ear. "You could still punish me . . . if you really want to."

"Get a fuckin' room," a crass voice interrupted and they parted to see RJ stroll into the room. He cocked a grin at Leah. "Happy birthday! You're ancient!"

There was resounding chorus of "Happy birthday, Leah!" and she chuckled in slight embarrassment.

"Is this really what all you troublemakers were up to?" she asked with a grateful smile. "I can't believe I didn't realize it."

Like you said, you've had other things on your mind," Nova comforted with an easy smile. Charon propped his bag up onto the counter and began to ruffle through it. He deposited four boxes of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes, along with a dented metal box. He grinned at Leah and waved an arm out in a grand gesture.

"I hope you enjoy, smoothskin," he said, sounding a tiny bit worried. "I'm not so good at giving gifts."

Leah turned pink and she picked approached the metal box. She glanced up at her ghoul. "You didn't have to do this," she whispered softly.

"I wanted to. You deserve it," he assured her with a quick kiss.

Smiling with anticipation, Leah slid the lid off of the box and peered inside. With a quiet gasp, she gently pulled the material of a dress up by the shoulders and held it up for everyone else to see. Two thin slashes of material ran from the front to back of the bright red dress. It flared out into a wide skirt that Leah knew would look wonderful if she twirled in it.

And it was completely flawless, the few slits in material sewed expertly together with matching red stitchwork. She ran her fingers over the soft dress and felt tears burn in her eyes as she looked up at her ghoul. "It's beautiful. So beautiful."

"You needed something to wear that matched your beauty," Charon said with a shrug. Leah carefully put the dress down before leaping into his arms and kissing him hard.

"You are the best ghoul in the whole wide world," she cried happily, ignoring Gob as he cleared his throat pointedly.

"I certainly try," Charon admitted with a grin, his sentence cut off as she kissed him again. He smirked as she pulled away for air. "You want to try it on for me?" he suggested with a glint in his eyes.

"You bet your sweet ghoul ass I do," she said breathlessly. She grabbed the material and Charon marched them up the stairs to an open room in the saloon, too impatient to cross the catwalks to Leah's house. In all honesty, they just weren't going to make it that far. Hell, they'd hardly make it up the stairs.

Gob and Nova shared a laugh as Joseph and RJ exchanged a disgusted glance.

It wasn't long before the screaming started.

The two teenagers slinked away, looking sick.

"Let's go play with knives," Joseph proposed as his face turned green.

* * *

Leah woke up in the middle of the night with a full bladder. Sighing at her body's needs, she wriggled out from under Charon's arm and stuffed herself into a pair of sweatpants and a baggy shirt. She yawned as she trod silently down the stairs, hoping not to wake anybody. She felt a little bad for her lack of consideration for others earlier, but after Charon had so kindly escorted her through her third shuddering orgasm she just couldn't bring herself to give a fuck anymore.

She was surprised to find the flickering light of a lamp guiding her attention to the back room once she'd reached the ground floor. A dark figure was huddled into a chair beside it, unaware of her intrusion on his reverie.

"Joey?" she asked tentatively, approaching with audible footsteps to alert him to her presence.

His head shot up at once, confirming her suspicions. "W-what are you doing up?" he demanded in a hiss. When he'd lifted his face, it had allowed the flame of his lamp to cast a light across his cheek bright enough to illuminate the blue and purple skin there.

"Is that a black eye?" Leah crossed the distance between them in a flash of movement and caught his jaw in her lithe hands. She tilted his face up, ignoring his struggles against her hold. "Oh, Joey," she sighed, releasing him once she'd gotten a good look. "Stay there," she ordered, crossing to the refrigerator and pulling out a handful of ice cubes.

"You're not going to demand who did it or threaten to give me another one if I don't tell you what happened?" he asked bitterly, clearly torn up over whatever had caused the black eye.

"No, because that won't get you to tell me. You'll close up like a goddamn clam," Leah replied in a whisper, wrapping a rag around the ice and handing it to him.

He pressed it against his injured eye with a grimace of pain. "Fair enough."

"Of course, I'd _like_ you to tell me," she informed him with concern etched into the planes of her face. "I love you, Joey, you know that. But I know when someone needs to fight their own battles. If you don't want my help, that's fine. But the instant you _need_ my help, I'll be there with a goddamn super sledge in hand to drop some cold fucking justice on whoever thought they could touch you and get away with it."

Her cool statement made him chuckle and then wince as it jostled the ice against his black eye. "It was Billy Creel," he said in a sigh, turning his face away.

"Go on," Leah encouraged softly. She'd suspected who the girl was all along, but she knew if she interrupted with an "I knew it!" Joseph would cut her out again.

"I've been hanging around with Maggie. She's sweet, and funny, and cute as hell. He caught us kissing on top of the Church of the Atom. Got so pissed he hauled and punched me, right in the eye. Don't underestimate me, though, Leah, I got a few good hits in on him, too. He'll be walking funny tomorrow, I guarantee you that. It would've been worse if not for Maggie. She was freaking out. Worried about both of us. So I stopped and walked away." He appealed to Leah with a desperate look in his one exposed eye. "He's not even her real father! Who is he to determine who she can or can't hang out with?"

Leah tenderly lifted the ice to inspect his injured eye. "I know he isn't, Joey," she agreed, lowering the ice once more. "Keep that there. But he's raised her from childhood. I expect a bit of parental protectiveness, but he did take it too far by hitting you. You guys were just kissing, right?"

"Correct. My arms were safely wrapped around her waist." He ducked his face into his hands and shook his head. "Goddamn crazy one-eyed freak," he muttered in frustration.

"I know you're angry," Leah said, cursing herself for the obvious statement. "But you need to calm down. You'll need a cool head when you go and apologize to Billy Creel."

"What?" Joseph demanded, his head shooting up.

Leah shushed him at once, glancing fearfully at the stairs. "If you want this to go over smoothly, it will be _prudent_ for Charon to not know. You think he'll just stand aside when some guy is beating on a kid he loves like a son."

Joe's face softened at once. "Gramps really thinks that?"

"Of course he does, you dense a-hole," Leah laughed quietly. "But you will need to apologize to Billy, even if he was being a dick. You'll never get to see Maggie again if you don't. She cares about Billy and you don't want her to feel torn between the two of you. How would you feel if you had to choose between me and Maggie?"

Joe hung his head, but nodded. "I understand." He sighed, looking unhappy but determined. "All right. I'll apologize tomorrow for sneaking behind his back with his . . . 'daughter.' Thanks for the advice, Leah. You can go climbing back to your ghoul now."

"Gladly . . . once I take care of my business." She quickly used the bathroom downstairs—feeling grateful that Charon had installed a wall and door to cut the area off from the bar as a whole per her request.

"By the way," Joseph called quietly, just as she was rounding to climb the stairs. She peeked her head around the side to catch his eye.

He was smiling. "It'd be no contest. You'd win out every time, Leah."

Leah stole up the stairs with a grin on her face.

She wasn't surprised to find Charon awake when she slid back into their room. What she didn't expect was his unquestioning invitation back into their bed. He even held up the blankets so she could climb back into the warmth and the circle of his arms.

"Too tired to care what you were up to," he explained roughly into the curve of her neck, kissing her once on the tender skin there. "Will question you ruthlessly about it tomorrow."

"It's a date," she promised with a quiet laugh, before settling against his chest and falling back into gentle, easy sleep.

* * *

**Pattyn and katersss:**

**I dare say I'm quite excited too! Thank you to both of you for following along into the next story. Wouldn't be here without you ;)**

**Also, thanks for the heads-up, Pattyn haha. I was thinking when I picked it, 'Vault Dweller doesn't sound quite right.' Much thanks haha.**


	3. Return to Sender

"Charon, wake up."

"Hmmm-grff."

"Chaaarooon. My love. My honey pie. My sweetums-dearest."

"Okay, I am awake."

"Sugar bear? Pumpkin?"

"Jesus Christ, Leah, I will strangle you again."

"We're going to Paradise Falls."

". . . ."

"So get dressed, handsome! I'll meet you downstairs!"

"You are so lucky you are beautiful."

* * *

Joseph trumped down the steps, tenderly poking along his cheekbone. Yep, still hurt like a bitch. Just checking.

He was surprised to find that Leah wasn't already up and about, milling around the bar yelling at one person or another to do some task she could have easily done herself. Charon was usually up by now as well and sitting in the corner, calmly ignoring the love of his life as he polished his weapons or talked logistics with Gob about future trips they were never going to make.

"Hey, where are Deadly and Deadlier?" Joseph asked through a yawn, heading for the fridge in the corner.

Gob looked up from a book Leah had left him about hand-to-hand combat. He'd gotten rusty over the years stuck in the saloon and if he ever wanted to leave he'd need to make sure his skills were tip-top. He didn't want to be the one holding Charon and Leah back. "Which one's Deadly and which one's Deadlier?" he asked, smiling.

"Depends on if it's that time of the month," Joe replied with a smirk.

Gob burst into laughter that was so strong it was almost painful. "Oh, you're a smart one, kid. You're lucky they both happen to be out. You would've earned yourself another black eye for that one."

Joe frowned as he pulled another pack of ice from the refrigerator. "Out? What do you mean, out?"

"Had an errand to run, I guess. Took that pain in the ass with them, thank God. I couldn't stand another minute of arrogant chatter from that little brat." He dog-eared his page in the book and set it aside, leaning forward curiously. "Said they'd be back by nightfall at the latest. Where _did_ you get that shiner?"

Joe groaned and pressed the ice to his eye. "Made out with the wrong guy's daughter, I guess. I'm going over to . . . apologize today."

Gob appraised the kid in interest. "That's a smart idea. Billy can be rash when it comes to Maggie. Apologizing would get you on the right road to his good graces."

"That was the plan," Joe sighed, setting the ice back down onto the table. He looked up at the ghoul with a resigned expression. Just thinking about it made his stomach do flips in anxiety. "Can you think of anything else that would help me?"

Wordlessly, Gob walked over to the fridge. He pulled open the door, grabbed something inside, and walked back. He slid the bottle of whiskey and a shot glass over the counter to the young man with a knowing smile.

"Take two o' those, kid, and you've got a head start. Just don't tell Deadly or Deadlier or you'll be calling me Dead pretty soon."

* * *

Four gunshots rang loudly across the open Wasteland and a heavy body fell into the dust. There was a triumphant whoop that quickly followed as RJ did a victory lap around his two companions, thrusting his rifle up in the air above his head—he may have had Charon's arrogance, but he'd also picked up Leah's goofiness

"Nice shot," Leah praised with a grin. She stepped over the newly dead raider and gestured at the corpse with her Xuanlong rifle. "Aren't you going to check him for supplies?"

RJ stopped short and nodded. "Right. Check for supplies." He knelt next to the dead raider and fearlessly began to rummage through the pockets of his armor.

Charon nodded in approval as RJ pocketed ammo for his rifle and even a few stimpaks.

"You know the plan, right?" Leah called back at them, strapping her rifle to her back. They were getting close. She could spot the giant Big Boy statue. They were maybe five minutes away.

Charon was spacing out. He was too busy admiring how fucking well Leah filled out a merc charmer outfit. The skirt was just so tiny, maybe _too_ tiny, really, but god if she didn't look amazing in it. He didn't understand what would make her switch from her normal leather armor into something as flimsy as her outfit now, but hey if she wanted to march around in a short skirt and ripped stockings, who was he to stop her?

"Yes, _mom_," RJ said teasingly with a roll of his eyes at Charon, who was roused from his thoughts and smirked back. "We've gone over it at least ten times by now."

"Then sock it to me."

"You're gonna lead me and Charon in like slaves. We're heading in and you're gonna check for three children slaves—remember, mungo," he added, slipping in the nickname he still pulled out when he was feeling snarky, which was ninety percent of the time, "Squirrel's sixteen by now. Penny's fifteen. Sammy's the youngest, he'd only be thirteen by now." His smile had faded as he remembered his friends. "You're gonna kill the bastard who took 'em, right, Leah?"

"Next part of the plan?" Charon growled, waving his question away.

RJ scowled. "Once you buy them—if they're even _there_—I'm gonna lead 'em over west. To that hill."

"Where Fawkes will meet you," Leah finished for him, reaching for his rifle as they walked along the south outer wall of Paradise Falls. She strapped it to her back with hers and Charon handed RJ four smaller guns.

"Give one to each of them to have, just in case," he instructed gravely. "It will be a short distance to travel, but you must take no chances."

"Right," RJ agreed, nodding seriously and thankfully keeping any snarky comments to himself.

"Not a word out of you, you hear me?" Leah asked harshly. She didn't like being mean, but if RJ got them caught before they were ready and the slaves were a safe distance away, it would all be for naught. "Not a single word. Stand a foot behind me at all times and don't make eye contact with anyone. Look at me before you make any action for an OK. If you must answer or ask me a question, call me 'Master.' Got it?"

RJ silently nodded.

"Good," Leah growled, turning to Charon. "I don't need to tell you how to do any of this, do I?" she asked sadly, reaching up to touch his face one last time before they reached the gate.

"No, smoothskin. This is a role I was born playing," he replied with a shrug, kissing her palm.

She let her hand fall back to her side and Charon watched her eyes harden, her shoulders set, her gait turn arrogant as they wandered toward the man standing watch. RJ and Charon fell immediately into line behind her as she moseyed up to him.

"Hold it right there," a black man in combat armor ordered. He squinted at them and stood up from the metal chair he'd been sitting on, clutching his rifle close. "Nobody's allowed into Paradise Falls except on slaver business. And _I_ get to decide what qualifies as 'slaver business.'"

Leah silently braced herself. Charon was _not_ going to like this.

She pursed her lips and leaned forward across the table between them, sticking out her ass and showing him the near acre of cleavage this tiny outfit exposed. She hitched a thumb over her shoulder and bit her lower lip, looking just the right amount of sassy and just the right amount of devious. "I've got two slaves here," she explained in the sappy voice she reserved just for these occasions, "but I'm planning on starting my own settlement. Four hands aren't enough to build the walls I'm going to need for security. I need more. Unless . . . Paradise Falls _isn't_ the place to go to for that?" She angled her voice up at the end and flashed those baby blues at him, trying not to think about what Charon's face must have looked like behind her.

Hook, line, and sinker. The man pulled at the collar of his armor and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, miss," he spluttered, setting his rifle down. He chanced a smile at her. "My name is Grouse. I'm just the guard. It's my job to intimidate any potential do-gooders who would come in here and shoot the place up, you know?"

"Oh, I understand," Leah assured him, running a hand through her dark hair. Her tongue darted out to wet both pink lips as she watched his eyes follow the quick movement. "I'll just be . . . _in and out_," she murmured with a slow smile. "You won't even notice me. I just want a few, strong slaves to get these walls built up."

Grouse grinned thoughtfully. "Maybe once you're done, you can come see me again on your way out," he proposed in what he must have thought was an endearing voice.

Leah let out a dusty laugh and strolled past him without looking back. "We'll see about that, Grouse. We'll see about that." She led her two "slaves" past the barricades toward the doors to Paradise Falls. She didn't chance glancing over her shoulder in case somebody was watching—which she was sure was true—but she could feel the heated glare on her back and knew she and Charon were going to be having some words later.

An old, broken-down car was blocking the double doors. There was a clank and the clinking of a chain being drawn as it began to rise to allow them entrance. Just as it reached the top, the doors were thrown open and a man in slave clothing and an explosive collar came bursting out. He sprinted past them, gasping for breath. RJ stopped and watched, dumbstruck, but Charon and Leah knew better and kept walking. She closed her eyes just as the explosion went off.

RJ cried out and leapt away, horrified. He turned back to the other two, who merely looked grim.

The double doors opened once more and they fell back into character, Leah turning to the slaver who walked out with a hastily put-together smile. "Close one there," she remarked casually. "He almost got away."

"Yeah, not with tha' slave colla' on," the slaver said with relish, dragging his eyes down and back up Leah's body. "You're a right hot bod' to be walkin' around slaver territory."

"Just here to purchase," she snarled, pushing past him and crossing her arms like the snooty bitch she'd come here as. She was glad she hadn't watched the slave explode. She might've lost it.

Reassured by the two sets of footsteps behind her, she pushed into the heart of Paradise Falls. Slavers dotted the open area, chatting and exchanging money for goods, laughing over drinks. It was strange to see them acting like any other wastelanders, knowing how evil they were on the inside. RJ felt sick looking at them. They all deserved to die, every last fucking one.

Charon caught his gaze and gave him the very slightest shake of the head. _I understand, but keep the fuck quiet._

RJ swallowed and kept his head forward.

Leah strolled casually around the corner and spotted a campfire up ahead. A brahmin was rotating on a spit in a circle of slavers. There was a black man in a red suit standing on the edge, two slaves in pink dresses behind him. Leah approached him slowly, her expression haughty but respectful.

"Excuse me," she sang.

He looked up at once, cocking an eyebrow as he caught sight of her. "Yes?" he asked in a pleasant voice, flattening the lapels of his suit. "May I help you?"

Leah smiled. "Your manners are a right sight better than your guard's," she commented politely.

"You must be speaking of Grouse. I admit, he isn't the warmest individuals, but he keeps away those who must be kept away." He made no effort to hide the edge of warning in his voice.

"Indeed, everyone has a job. Which is why I am here. I'd like to start a settlement not too far from here, but these two here," she said, gesturing over her shoulder at Charon and RJ, "just don't have the manpower to get it done. I was wondering if you have any younger slaves. It may take years to finish. Also, I find that with slaves, the younger, the better, Mr. . . ." She trailed off, angling for a name.

"Forgive me!" He laughed softly. "It seems that even with my 'manners,' I sometimes forget common courtesy. You may call me Eulogy Jones. These are Crimson and Clover," he introduced his slaves. They sent her snooty glares. "I just so happen to have three slaves of a young age, in comparison to most of our slaves. We've had them since their childhood, but no one ever wants to buy them. They have . . . quite the attitudes, if you understand."

"Oh." Leah bit her lip and played uncertain. "Hmm. I'm not sure if that will work for me."

"What?" RJ asked quietly behind her.

Leah's entire body went rigid. The slavers at the campfire all stopped talking and stared at them. Eulogy raised his eyebrows and his two slaves gasped in fear for the boy.

"Excuse me," Leah apologized to Eulogy through gritted teeth. She whirled on her heel and slapped RJ hard with the back of her hand. He whimpered as his head jerked from the hit, his cheek turning bright red. Charon remained unmoving. Leah turned back around, face burning in regret—that easily passed for embarrassment under the circumstances. "I . . . apologize. I have a sentimental weakness for my slaves, and I spoil them as you can see. They talk when they should listen."

After a long moment of silence, the slavers returned to conversation and Eulogy dipped his head in understanding. "Of course. The teenagers are often the hardest to work with. Might I suggest an older slave then, since you are already having such difficulty with just one teenaged slave?"

"No, it shall be no issue," Leah assured him. "I will take it as a challenge. I might want to be a parent one day and if I cannot control my slaves, then I am in no shape to have children." She beamed at him.

Eulogy smiled back. "All right then. They're thirteen, fifteen, and sixteen. Perfect ages, really, for a physical job such as yours. I shall accept two thousand for the lot of them."

Leah's smile faltered. She simpered and jutted her bottom lip out thoughtfully, running her fingertips down the dip between her breasts. "Two thousand? That seems a little steep."

He stroked his chin, looking her up and down. He snapped his left hand and one of the slaves—Clover—stepped forward. "Clover is one of the craziest girls I ever met. Crazy in a fight, crazy in the sack, crazy every which way but loose. But most of all, she's crazy-in-love with whoever holds her leash. For two thousand total, Clover could also be crazy for you." He grinned at her, teeth glinting. Clover stood beside him with a dazzling smile of her own.

One more slave freed was worth the price. Leah laughed and handed over a bundle of caps. "You've got yourself a deal, Mr. Jones." She took his offered hand and they shook on it.

"Your slaves will be brought to you at the entrance. You can see yourself out." Eulogy turned away to Crimson and touched her face. "It's just you and me now, darling."

Leah spun and marched for the exit, wanting to get the children out as soon as possible. Clover fell into step beside Charon and grinned ahead at her. Charon glanced down at her and saw only adoration in her eyes. He knew slavery inside out, knew the boiling hatred, the hopelessness, the constant urge to commit a quick and bloody suicide.

He saw none of that in this girl's eyes.

_Whatever. Let Leah deal with it. _

When they reached the main entrance, three teenaged children were waiting there for them. Leah gestured them coldly after her and the now large group moved out through the barricades. As soon as they'd passed through the double doors, Leah slid behind one of the abandoned cars. She looked around at the four newcomers.

"Squirrel, Penny, Sammy," she addressed the Little Lamplighters, "RJ is going to take you guys back to Little Lamplight. Go with him, do what he says, 'cause it could mean your life."

"MacCready?" Sammy's eyes began to tear up, but Leah shushed him quickly.

"You have to be quiet and act like nothing is up. You'll have all the time in the world to reunite once you get to the caverns. Clover," she said, turning to the new girl. She grinned at the sound of her new master addressing her.

"Yes, lover?" she asked in a lilting, pleasant voice.

"Erm, you don't have to call me that," Leah said, glancing awkwardly over at Charon and glaring at his smirk. "You can just call me Leah, and I'm freeing you."

"Don't be silly, lover," Clover said with a laugh. "I'll always follow you wherever you need me."

Leah sighed, rubbing her temples. Fucking great. What the hell had she gotten herself into? "Fine, you go with RJ, too, then. Nobody freak out at the super mutant, he's friendly. As odd as that sounds, trust me. He's what's going to be keeping you safe between here and Little Lamplight. Am I clear?"

There were four heads nodding back at her.

"Good," she said, shooing them off. "Then get to it. Be quiet, be quick. Go!"

RJ and the four former slaves clambered out from behind the car and took off. Leah and Charon watched them until they were gone around the corner, Leah biting her nails in worry.

"RJ is more than capable of getting them home safe," he reassured her, rubbing the small of her back. They settled down in the small area and she curved into the circle of his arms. They had at least an hour until nightfall. "By the way," he said and his voice was colder, "you never mentioned that you put on this ridiculous outfit so that you could flirt with other men."

Leah winced, glad he couldn't see the guilty expression on her face. "It was purely an issue of practicality."

"I understand," he sighed, pulling her back against his chest, her legs splayed out within his. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "But you are still such a tease. Have I ever told you that?" he growled, his voice tickling her ear.

She shivered against him. "Well, I – _oh_!" she whispered as his hand was very suddenly in her shirt. Her eyelids fluttered as he circled a nipple with his rough fingertips. "Ooh," she cooed.

"Shh," he murmured through a smirk. "No one should know we are here," he reminded her.

"Then you shouldn't be – ah, forget that, don't stop."

He turned her around so that she was straddling his thighs and his face was very serious now. "Do you think you can remain quiet?" he asked.

Leah was already unbuckling his pants. "Only if you can."

There were a few moments of silenced fumbling and hushed murmurs of impatience before she was lowering herself onto his length. Charon barely bit back a groan as her tight heat enveloped him. He ducked his face into her throat and clenched her hips as she began to grind back and forth. Her husky little gasps echoed softly against the side of his face as she rocked her hips, his arousal hitting every spot within her and god, it felt good, it felt really fucking good—it felt like it had been forever, had it really only been one night?

Then again, with Charon every time felt like the first time. He was usually so loving and so absorbed in her and her body that it seemed he was worshipping her with his every time. His fingers dug into the flesh of her skin where he'd shoved her skirt up and he bit down on her shoulder.

Leah hissed at the sudden pain and her hips gave an erratic jerk against his. He palmed her waist to stabilize her movements and got a good rhythm going, back and forth, around in a circle, every rotation brushing that bundle of nerves of hers against his rough skin. He kissed where he'd bitten her, delirious with lust and pleasure, tasting sweat.

Leah murmured a curse into his skin and sank her teeth into the curve of his neck as she was tipped over the edge, into the tight contractions around his length and then he was coming, too, clutching desperately at her hips as he muffled his groan into her throat and burst within her.

Leah watched as he lifted his head and smiled tiredly at her. He brushed a lock of hair from her sweat-slick skin and kissed her.

She gently lifted herself off of his softening member and slid her tights and skirt back into place. Charon seemed to have gone limp—all over his body—so she laughed quietly and buckled his clothes back up as well. She pressed a kiss to his lips and smiled.

"Night time already?" he asked, his voice raspy with new excitement—a different kind, a bloodlust kind.

She pointed upward at the dark sky, something neither had really noticed during their quickie. "You bet, handsome. Let's go fuck up some slavers."

"You are the love of my life," he declared happily as he pulled his shotgun from his back.

"Lucky you, huh?" She readied her Victory rifle and looked up at the wall behind them. "I was thinking –,"

"During sex?" he demanded, feeling that if she'd been planning their assault during their lovemaking then he was surely lacking in his abilities.

"Before sex," she reassured him with a flop of her hand, "that if we can scale this wall, we can take a bunch out with the sniper rifles before we have to really get down and dirty."

"I like the way you think," he agreed, mollified. Without further ado, Leah leapt up and grabbed hold of a piece of metal that had peeled back from the wall. She hoisted herself up, Charon assisting her by pushing her feet, and managed to throw a leg over the ledge of the wall. It leveled out on top of Paradise Falls' gun store. She grinned and rolled onto the roof, leaning back over to help Charon up.

He reached into their bag for his sniper rifle while she set hers up. She pressed her eye to the scope and took in the walkways below.

She could see Eulogy Jones leaning against a wall by the campfire, his arms crossed and an easy smile on his face. He was chatting away with one of the other slavers and he laughed, he fucking laughed, he was _happy_.

Leah smiled as she lined up the shot. Slavers would sleep with one eye open after tonight. She'd be fucking sure of it.

"Let's party."

* * *

**Thanks to TheLittlestReaper and Vermin-lord and, of course, Pattyn: you make my little fanfiction world spin. I'm excited for this sequel, too! I can't wait to flex my writerly muscles with this one. Thank you always for the love!**


	4. Row, Row, Row Your Boat

Charon roared and slammed his back into the nearest wall, crushing the man dangling there to his death. Once the human had crumpled from his body, Charon brought up his shotgun and killed two more slavers nearby. He quickly swiped the blood from his eyes with the back of his hand and chanced a quick look around for his smoothskin. He couldn't see a glimpse of her between all of the bodies milling around him. It was like an all-out war. With another wild snarl, he grabbed two more slavers by the necks and smashed their heads together. They dropped to the ground and he made a mad dash for the nearby sniper tower, taking the metal stairs two at a time. He reached the top and peered down into the fray, loosing a frag grenade from his back pocket. "Leah!" he called in a booming voice. "Leah, where the fuck are you?"

He received no response. She was nowhere to be seen. Below there were many dead bodies, and four slavers left. They were running toward the tower and he dropped the live grenade down amongst them after ensuring that his smoothskin was not in their midst. Once the explosion had killed the last of the slavers, Charon vaulted over the railing and landed hard on the ground, boots sinking into the blood-soaked earth. He sprinted around the corner and headed for Eulogy's Pad. He stopped dead in his tracks once he saw them.

The two women were locked limb-around-limb, hands ripping through hair, teeth gritted around feral growls. Leah had Carolina Red's two red-haired horns clenched tight in her fists as she squeezed her thighs around the other woman's waist. She slammed her forehead against the slaver's, making her screech in pain and recoil.

Carolina Red threw a punch and it caught Leah in the cheekbone. She groaned and released her hair and waist to roll away and clutch her face in pain. Not to be deterred, Carolina Red lunged forward and straddled the Lone Wanderer. Grabbing a fistful of hair in her left hand, she buried her right fist straight into Leah's stomach. The wind was knocked out of her in a gust of breath and she bucked the slaver off of her in a desperate jerk of her hips. Carolina Red tumbled off and Leah seized the opportunity to swing her leg up and catch the other woman's chin, knocking her head backward and momentarily stunning her. Leah slid her combat knife from the sheath on her shin and sank the blade in Carolina Red's belly. She shoved the slaver away from her as the girl took her last dying breath in urgent, fading gasps. Blood gushed from her wound and into the dry, caked dirt beneath them.

Leah exhaled and climbed shakily to her feet. She looked up and spotted Charon with a furious exclamation. "You were watching the whole time? You could've fucking helped!"

Charon was there in an instant and yanked her up into his arms to plant a passionate, bloody, smirking kiss on her lips. She grunted in surprise under his mouth before melting against his chest. He pulled away to tilt his forehead against hers, breathing hard.

"I forgive you," she panted through a smile as he set her back onto her feet. "Let's go take care of this bastard Eulogy Jones." She turned and stepped over Carolina Red's corpse, landing a kick in her side just for vindictive pleasure. They entered the cool, dim foyer of Eulogy's house and squinted through the hazy, alcohol- and sex-tinted air. There was another scent mingling there, one that Leah recognized with a grim, satisfied smile.

Fear.

She handed her rifle to Charon, trading it out for a 10mm pistol she'd taken from a dead slaver. Small and classy. There was no need for overkill here. They rounded the corner with silent, cautious footsteps. Eulogy Jones was huddled in the darkened, very far corner of the room, Crimson standing protectively in front of him brandishing an old Chinese officer's sword. Eulogy lifted an assault rifle, but Charon quickly shot it out of his hands with Leah's gun so that it skittered across the floor, where Leah moved forward and kicked it even further away.

"Good shot," Leah praised him, making him smile. She stepped forward with a cat-got-the-canary smile. "Hello, Mr. Jones. It's nice to see you again."

"How dare you talk to my daddy, you bitch!" Crimson shrieked. She ran forward with her sword raised above her head. As soon as she was close enough, Leah stepped forward, batted the sword from her hands, gripped her shoulder, planted the pistol into her stomach and pulled the trigger. Leah lowered the dead slave to the ground with unnecessary care, glancing up through her lashes to catch Eulogy's reaction.

If he had been horrified or shocked or saddened or even the tiniest bit fucking moved, Leah might have hesitated. But his completely stoic expression as good as pulled the trigger.

"You're an evil son of a bitch, Eulogy Jones," Leah informed him calmly, tapping her chin with the tip of her pistol. She affected impatience with a slight frown. "What is it we do with evil sons of bitches, Charon?"

The ghoul chuckled from where he leaned against the open doorframe. His smoothskin, always one for the dramatics. She was as sweet as an ice cold Nuka-Cola, but when the right occasion rolled around she could be one cruel and heartless bitch. He wasn't sure what part of her he loved more. "We execute them," he said out loud, to answer her question.

"Ah. That's right," she whispered with a shake of her head, as if chiding herself for forgetting such a simple concept. She took a step forward with that same, malicious grin as before. "You see, Charon used to be a slave, too. He got to experience the sweet revenge of killing his old master. Now I . . . I will carry out what countless others do not have the opportunity to."

"Listen here, bitch –," Eulogy spat out.

"Turn around!" Leah barked, cutting him off and pointing her gun at him.

Eulogy winced and slowly rotated.

"On your fucking knees!"

He complied, shoulders trembling in barely-contained rage. Leah lowered her pistol to the base of his neck. "I hope you enjoy hell, you sick, bitter son of a bitch," she whispered as a farewell, and then she pulled the trigger.

The loud gunshot stopped ringing in her ears long after Eulogy's body had slumped sideways onto the sticky floor. Leah dropped the pistol onto his body and dusted her hands clean of such an evil man.

"Now," she announced with an easy smile, eyes twinkling pleasantly up at her ghoul. "Let's go show Joseph his long-lost sister."

"You're a twisted kind of person, Leah Montgomery," Charon said with a shake of his head and a laugh. "And I love the hell out of you."

* * *

Charon and Leah trekked through the sandstorm once they'd left Little Lamplight, Fawkes waving them off with as much of a grin as any super mutant could manage. The Lone Wanderer kept a wary eye on the girl marching onward in front of them. She'd lent Penny her best set of armor, along with a head-wrap and goggles she'd found on one of the slavers to protect her from the flying sand. She hadn't spoken a word at all and Leah was worried.

Not that she didn't understand. Being a slave for who knows how long, abandoned by your family, left to labor for the rest of her life . . . it was only natural that she'd lost faith over time. She just hoped that seeing Joseph might bring a chance at happiness back to her life.

When RJ had informed her that he intended to stay behind and helped the others acclimate back into their family, Leah had felt a little nervous. She knew nothing about Penny – only what Joseph had told her and that wasn't much at all. She felt eternally grateful that she had Charon, even more so than usual. He'd smiled and assured her that if she gave Penny time, she would talk about whatever she felt comfortable discussing. He _had_ mentioned that he couldn't fathom being a female slave and what sexual labors that might come about because of that. It made Leah shudder.

"Give her time," he'd whispered with a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You've done the right thing, saving her. Let's just get her to Joseph. We can only pray for the best."

Leah had dipped her face into her clasped hands that night, while Charon snoozed beside her. She'd murmured wishing, desperate, urgent words into her thumbs, feeling silly but thinking if anything would give those children a chance at a happy life, she'd gladly do it. She'd stopped believing in God a long time ago, after seeing the travesties that had occurred, but for the children's sake, she let the possibility cross her mind. Her father had believed. Maybe there had been something there after all.

She hadn't known that Charon was awake beside her the whole time. But he'd let her continue with a warm smile. When he'd first realized that he was in love with her, he'd thought it impossible to feel any stronger toward her.

He had been completely wrong.

* * *

Joseph slumped down further in his chair, feeling sick. He'd appealed to Billy Creel with nearly-servile words of apology, told him that he'd treat his daughter with all the respect, care, and devotion in the world, that no one had ever deserved it more than Maggie, only to be dismissed with a cold wave of a hand so that the one-eyed asshole could "think about it."

Maggie had promised to come see him as soon as she could with a sad little smile and a quick peck on the cheek.

The suspense was killing him. He was totally head-over-heels for Maggie and if he didn't get to be with her, he wasn't sure what he'd do. Certainly mope about for a long while. Maybe throw a few things. Get drunk and yell at people who didn't deserve his anger. It was a bleak future.

The old bar door creaked open and his eyes flickered upward in the vain hope that it would be her. Gob was out buying supplies from passing traders, leaving Joseph to tend to the bar. He rose sulkily to his feet and moved behind the counter. "Can I help you?" he asked in a frustrated tone.

What he hadn't expected was to see _her_. He squinted at the girl who walked in, rubbed his eyes, blinked a few times to clear his vision because surely, _surely_, it wasn't his _sister_ standing there staring at him.

When he realized that he wasn't seeing things, Joseph yelled and vaulted over the counter to sweep his sister into his arms. He sobbed openly into her shoulder as she moaned and held him back.

"Penny," he mouthed, unable to summon any volume to his voice. He squeezed her tighter to convey what he couldn't say. She nodded into his chest to return the sentiment. There just weren't words to describe the burning overflow of emotion, to express how they felt on this day that was never going to happen and yet here they were in each others' arms again and they had a chance—a chance at happiness, at a life together again.

Joseph glanced up at Charon and Leah stepped into the room. She was smiling and crying, her tears glittering under the artificial lighting of the saloon. He mouthed a thank you and then closed his eyes and inhaled his sister's familiar scent and clenched her too-thin body close to his. He'd never let her go again.

"You're home," he muttered roughly, rubbing her back reassuringly. "You're home, Penny, you're home."

"Home," she repeated in a cracked and broken voice, thinking of the neglect, abuse, and pain she'd been forced to endure for the past years. The rape. The bone-breaking labor. All of the atrocities she'd been sure she could not bear to endure.

But home?

That sounded like something she could handle.

* * *

"Looks like it's you and me, honey bunch," Leah said with a smirk to her ghoul, who rolled his eyes. It had been only last night that Joseph had come here to her house and informed her solemnly that he would not be joining them in their adventures anymore.

Naturally, they'd reassured him that they understood. He had to take care of his sister. He had smiled and hugged, murmuring a thank you. Then he'd turned to Charon, stared up at his passive, ruined face, arms crossed indifferently across his chest. The ghoul then grinned and tugged the kid into a swift, back-breaking hug, patting his shoulder hard enough to bruise.

"Thanks, you guys," Joseph muttered, pulling out of the hug with a wince. "I will never be able to say it enough."

"Return the favor by taking care of Maggie and Penny. And everyone else, really," Leah said with a smile. "We'll come visit again."

"Maybe some day I'll be able to rejoin you guys, but for now . . ." Joseph just sighed and sent them a tired smile. "You know. I'll see you later, Leah. . . . Gramps." With one last nod, he'd turned and walked out.

Charon cleared his throat, bringing Leah back to the present. He was holding out a box of cigarettes and she took one with a nod of thanks. "So what now?"

He lit her cigarette and then his with a shrug of his broad shoulders. "We can set out again, smoothskin. Explore and save people like we used to."

Leah's eyes twinkled in excitement. "The glory days, huh? Just you and me, on the road, killin' bad guys."

"You have to admit, it sounds good," he teased, smirking around his cigarette.

She examined his face, deciding that his smirk was one of the sexiest things she'd ever seen. "It does." She frowned in thought and pulled up her Pip-Boy, tapping her way to her map and searching it closely. "There's an old Nuka-Cola factory to the south of here. Sound fun?"

"Sure, smoothskin. I will follow you anywhere. You know that."

"I do. . . . pussy-whipped much?"

She took off with a squeal as soon as the words left her mouth, dashing up the stairs and disappearing into her room. He heard the click of the lock as she closed the door behind her. Charon growled loudly and stalked her up the old staircase, which groaned under his weight. He dropped into a hunting crouch and kicked her bedroom door open. It slammed against the wall and Leah shrieked in laughter as Charon attacked.

* * *

All in all, the trip to the Nuka-Cola Plant hadn't been all that worth it, loot-wise. After battling their way past an Enclave camp to the north, a crazed robot foreman inside of the factory, and numerous of "nuka-lurks," Charon and Leah had little to show for it. A few books, an old assault rifle, a stealth boy and a few stimpaks. Not a terrible reward, but certainly lacking compared to how much work they put into the trip.

So they pushed on eastward, after spending the night in the foyer of the factory. It was creepy and dark, but it was better than chancing it out in the open. Leah insisted they go far south and walk along the waterfront. They saw more mirelurks this way, but she liked to kick off her shoes and dip her toes into the cool water. Charon complied, affecting frustration. They both knew he loved her childish side. She found little joys in this shithole of a world and it kept them both going.

"What's that?" Leah asked, shielding the sun from her eyes with her hand. She pointed off into the distance at what looked like a boat floating on the water. They continued at a more determined pace, their weapons at the ready.

"I can't believe it," Charon muttered in shock. "An actual . . . ferry?"

They approached the old dock in mild surprise, ready for some kind of ambush from within the much-abused boat. Judging from the hackneyed, shoddy repair jobs done on the many broken boards, somebody really loved the old ferry.

"Excuse me!"

They both jumped a little at the sound of a woman's voice. The owner came running toward them from over the hill to their left. They lowered their weapons at her obviously unarmed state. She gasped for breath once she'd reached them.

"Are you all right?" Leah asked in immediate concern.

"I-I'm fine," the woman gasped. Her creased face made her look older than she really was, which seemed to be maybe her early fifties. "Are you two planning on taking the ferry to Point Lookout?"

"Point Lookout? The Maryland park? Is that where this leads?" Charon asked in confusion.

Leah was even more confused. "Point Lookout?"

"Yes, that's exactly right," the woman confirmed solemnly. "Are you going to travel there, though?" she insisted.

The couple exchanged a glance and Charon shrugged. Leah smiled and nodded. "Sure. Is it safe there?"

"Not at all. I hear there are many looters and feral ghouls, among other unspoken abominations. That is why I require your help. My name is Catherine and my . . . my daughter Nadine ran off to Point Lookout on that creepy man's boat." She nodded at the ferry with a shudder. "I can't sleep thinking about what may have become of her. If you truly do intend to travel there, would you please keep an eye out for her? She's got bright red hair. Another experiment of hers." Her voice grew soft and fond toward the end, wavering a little in worry.

"Of course," Leah assured her with a sad smile. "I'll do everything I can to find her, Catherine. You have my word."

Charon nodded in agreement when she glanced up at him. "We will find her."

"Oh, thank you," Catherine gasped, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I don't have much to give you in reward –,"

Leah interrupted her, holding her hand up. "There will be no need. We'll do it gratis. Your daughter is in good hands. Ready, Charon?"

"Always."

"All right. Goodbye, Catherine. We'll see you soon . . . with your daughter Nadine."

The couple walked away from the semi-relieved mother and stepped carefully over the broken planks of the old dock. A mustached man in a hat and goggles stepped out of one of the two rooms on the ferry and spotted them at once. "Welcome, friends! I am Tobar the Ferryman, and this fine vessel is the Duchess Gambit!"

Leah barely contained a wince. 'Creepy' had been an understatement.

"Are you interested in a lift to Point Lookout, my friends?" He grinned, showing missing teeth. He glanced at Charon and his smile fell. "I won't be able to take this . . . abomination . . . on my boat, though. A ticket for a ride will be three-hundred and thirty caps."

Leah casually pulled her SMG from its holster and traced the barrel with a smile. "My submachine gun here says otherwise. Now I doubt you get much business on this broken-down boat with those kinds of prices. You've had, what, one customer recently? A redhead who's gone missing? And when was the last time before that? What my little friend here and I think is that you should lower the price to one hundred caps each. That way my ghoul friend and I can walk away with a ride to Point Lookout and you can walk away with two hundred caps. Unless you'd rather just take the bullet in your brain."

Tobar searched her face with a raised eyebrow. His defeated look was unmistakable – and indescribably satisfying. "All right, all right," he grumbled, accepting the bundle of caps from her and looking very put-upon. "Two hundred caps I accept. As for that girl's disappearance, she's probably gotten herself into some sort of trouble. There are a lot of wild things to see in Point Lookout. It's both a blessing and a curse. Are you _sure_ you still want to venture there?"

"Just start the ferry, Tobar," Leah said, brushing coolly past him. "This room here?" she asked, gesturing at the room on the left.

"Yes," Tobar grumbled, retreating to the front of the ferry. "I will come and get you when we are there."

Leah swept into the room with a smile. Charon followed with a chuckle. "You always get your way, you know that, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Is that a problem? You'd be swimming there right now if it were otherwise."

"No, far be it from me to complain about your . . . persuasion tactics." He settled onto a battered old couch and Leah sat beside him. She rested her cheek on his shoulder as the boat's engine thrummed to life.

"How did you know about Point Lookout before?" she asked curiously, tracing patterns into the exposed muscle of his arm.

Charon leaned his head back and cleared his throat. "I was alive before the great war. It used to be a big tourist attraction. People would travel from states away to camp there." He shrugged. "I never understood it, but then I was a slave and it never really mattered all that much to me or my life."

Leah winced at the reference to his past and stroked his arm, mainly to comfort herself. "I wonder what it's like now."

"No doubt filled with many monsters to vanquish," he replied with an excited smile.

"If we're lucky."

He smiled into her hair and kissed her temple. "It is going to be a long ride, smoothskin. You should sleep."

Leah curled up into his side and he slung his arm around her shoulders. She fell asleep beside his warmth and to the constant, humming whirr of the boat as it coasted over the gentle waves. She had pleasant dreams of the raiders and other useless enemies she would find once they reached the opposite shore, of how easy it would be to find this Nadine and bring her safely back to her mother.

She had no idea what awaited her on the other side.

* * *

**POINT LOOKOUT! WOOHOOOO!**

**As always, I have thanks to deliver. The eternally felt thank you to Pattyn first. I usually hammer out a chapter and post it at like 1 am and your reviews are always there when I wake up in the morning. It's like unwrapping a Christmas gift every time!**

**Along with that, I have DaLover to give a BIG thank you to! You are really, really awesome, DaLover! Thank you SO MUCH for all the love! I can't believe how fast you read everything haha. Your reviews made me really happy and smile real big! I hope that I can continue to please, because you've made me feel great! As per your Butch question, I just sort of unspoken-ly dropped him off at Rivet City. After I posted that chapter, I realized how he just didn't come up anymore after that, haha. Sorry, I know that was really confusing! I was a little too eager to move on to the big quest finale, so I forgot to pop in a sentence about how he went to go sulk in the Muddy Rudder.**

**Well... Butch went to go sulk in the Muddy Rudder... haha. Thanks for the reviews and glad I could clear that up! Enjoy!**


	5. Check and Mate

Charon carefully swept back dark strands of silky hair as Leah bent over the side of the ferry and spectacularly vomited for what had to be the fourth time already. She'd woken up about an hour ago. Consequently she'd spent the last hour emptying the contents of her stomach into the murky waters below.

"Evidently you are not an expert at _everything_," Charon remarked, tenderly stroking her temples with his fingertips. "I was beginning to worry you were too perfect."

"Wish I was," Leah groaned dryly, straightening once more and wiping the back of her sleeve over her mouth. "I'd rather be a lousy shot than puking my guts out right now. Where's that dumb fruit Tobar left us?"

"Back in the room. Come." He took her hand and led her slowly back into the room. The ferryman had popped in once he'd seen them awake and told them they were not far from their destination. Before leaving, he'd dropped a small, root-shaped fruit onto the table and told them that if either suffered from unexpected seasickness that it would cure it in a jiffy.

Charon and Leah stared down at it in hesitation. The root was small, shriveled, and a nasty earwax color – all in all, not very appetizing. However when another wave of nausea hit, Leah decided it would be worth it to get rid of her heaves. She picked up the fruit and, before she could reason herself into stopping, took a big bite. Charon watched in concern as she grimaced, chewed, and swallowed.

"Well?" he asked, eyeing her with worry.

Leah made a face and shrugged. "I don't know. Tastes sweet, once you get past the bitter outside. I guess I . . . whoa." She stuck her tongue out and poked at the pink flesh in curiosity. "My thung isth mum."

Charon facepalmed.

"Ha-ha, neat," she laughed, pulling her tongue back into her mouth. "I feel a lot better! That creepy bastard was actually right!"

There was a rap of knuckles on their door and Charon pulled it open to see Tobar's familiarly strange grin. "Welcome to Point Lookout, my friends! It's gray and damp like any fantastic day here!"

"Great," Charon grumbled as Leah stepped forward beside him.

"Thanks for the ride, Tobar. What is there to see here?"

"There's a motel not too far north from here, if you need a place to stay. The beds are still pretty soft, even if it's because they're full of lice. You may want to check out Calvert Mansion, though, to the east. It's said to be haunted and I saw smoke coming from the chimney on our way in. Might be something interesting there." The ferryman shrugged and cocked a smirk at her. "Just don't get your pretty self hurt, little lady. I'd hate to see that face of yours scarred."

Charon glared and Leah rolled her eyes. "I'll keep it in mind, thanks. Will you be here when we want to return to the mainland?"

"I will indeed."

"Great. Let's go." Charon pulled on their bag and they marched off of the ferry. Another deteriorated dock led to what looked like an old boardwalk, complete with ferris wheel and abandoned carnival booths.

"This is crazy neat," Leah whispered as they skirted the edge of the dock, heading eastward. "I can't wait to explore this place."

There was an abrupt shout up above and they drew their weapons as a tall, shirtless man dropped down from atop a booth. He landed beside them and screamed, waving an axe above his head.

Leah gaped in shock. The features of his face were sunken and lopsided, his belly bloated and arms mismatched in size. She could only surmise that he was the result of much inbreeding – not to mention radiation. She stared in bewilderment as Charon blasted him with his shotgun.

"What the fuck was that thing?" he demanded tersely. She tiptoed forward and knelt down to study his body.

"Looks like some sort of inbred savage."

"Creepy . . . and disgusting. Let's keep moving. I don't want to meet any more of these things."

Unfortunately, they met at least five more on their journey to the mansion, which was little more than a dark silhouette in the distance, smoke billowing ominously around it. Leah collected a few of the weapons from the crazed locals, remarking that she'd never seen lever-action guns like them before.

Charon brushed it off with a shrug. "They were confederate rifles. There were prisoner camps here where they used to stay."

"Interesting," she muttered, sliding the guns into her bag. "This place looks like it used to be gorgeous. And it's huge!"

"It is," he agreed, cocking his shotgun suspiciously as they rounded the corner into a long walkway. They moved carefully down the pathway toward the front doors.

"You! You two are no tribals! Stop dicking around and get in here! Help me kill these tribals, or these cocksuckers will be coming after you next!" The gruff, accented voice boomed out of two loud speakers above the door. Leah and Charon exchanged a curious glance.

"Do you think Nadine is in there?" she whispered.

He shrugged, nodding at the old doors. "We cannot know until we look, can we?" He threw the doors open and they walked in.

A ghoul in a white suit was flanked by two dogs in the far side of the room. His arrogant stance and well-pressed three-piece suit were in sharp contrast to those of his attackers: raider-like warriors with poorly made guns and cloth outfits, who were clearly inexperienced from the sloppy way they took their shots.

One of the tribals on the end caught sight of the newcomers and cried out, "More of the unenlightened!"

"All right!" Leah cried in excitement, pulling up her rifle. She shot down a nearby female tribal, who screamed out "Feed the punga!" as she collapsed. Charon made quick work of another, but growled in surprise as one more slashed his arm with a dull blade. "Death to the unenlightened!" the man shouted with conviction before Leah shot him down.

"You okay?" she asked, smashing a woman's skull in with the butt of her gun.

"Just fine," Charon snarled as he kicked down another tribal and shot him in the chest. He glanced up to see the other ghoul taking care of two other tribals in a similar fashion. He seemed familiar somehow, the accent, the suit, the glasses. . . .

"Pay attention!" Leah yelled, startling Charon from his reverie as one more tribal ran at him. He ducked and vaulted the man over him, so that he landed on his back and Charon shot him dead. "What are you thinking about?" she demanded, coming over as the other ghoul killed the last of the attackers.

"I know him from somewhere," he muttered, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Come." He put a hand protectively on the small of her back and they approached the stranger and his dogs.

The bespectacled ghoul fixed his glasses and speared the couple with a glare. "You've done a right fucking job getting blood all over my house, but I suppose it will have to do. At least you've had the courtesy not to fling it all over the paintings or tramp your sodding boots across my carpets," he spat with obvious disdain.

Leah blinked, taken aback. Jesus Christ, he was angry for someone who'd just been saved. She glanced at Charon to see his reaction and was confused to see his shocked expression. He looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Desmond Lockheart," Charon blurted out in realization. His brow furrowed in consternation. "What the fuck are you doing out here?"

"You know me?" he demanded, his tone anything but friendly. He sounded insulted to have been recognized by someone so undeserving of his presence.

"You _know_ him?" Leah hissed under her breath, thoroughly perplexed.

"He used to gamble with Ahzrukhal," he muttered back through a growl. "I'd recognize that foul mouth anywhere."

"Ahh," Desmond sighed, smirking. "You're that rotten brat slave he always kept around. Did he finally get tired of your ugly visage? Sell you off to a new master? And what a master indeed," he remarked, raking his eyes up and down Leah's body. "A right sight better to look at than Ahzrukhal's face. You're lucky to trod around staring at that ass all day."

Charon merely rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you're still alive, you old bastard. I'd hoped a deathclaw would have finished you off by now. Or one of your 'rivals' that you used to rave about for hours."

"Don't pretend as if you know anything about my life!" Desmond shot back with venom. "My business is my fucking business."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Leah intervened, stepping between the two glaring men and holding her hands up. "Let's not get hostile here. There could still be tribals or whatever here."

The ghouls continued to stare each other down before Desmond shrugged and turned away. "Your new master definitely isn't the stupid fuck your last one was, _Charon_. And she's right. They've been at it all day." He marched through a doorway to the room behind them, his dogs trotting faithfully at his heels. "There," he said, pointing to one of many television screens installed in the right wall. It showed a fuzzy, green-tinted of a hallway, down which more tribals were filtering. "It looks like they've found some way in on the west end." He led them back out and around the corner to a set of double doors in a dining room. "Go through these doors up the stairs. Find where they're coming from and block it off somehow. I don't fucking care how. They've destroyed enough of my home as it is already." With nothing more than an angry glare, Desmond turned and strode off.

"Wow," Leah exhaled. "Just . . . wow. I can see how he's someone you wouldn't forget."

Charon's jaw was set in anger. "Let's just take care of these tribals."

"What's your beef with this guy?" she asked as they climbed the steps. Her ghoul merely scowled and cocked his shotgun. "Oh, come on. You can tell me anything."

He snorted and rounded the corner onto the next floor. A plush carpet lined the wooden floorboards past where the hallway was barricaded halfway down by desks and chairs. There were two doors between them and the barricade. The one on the right led to an empty room filled with music stands. They were just peeking into the one on the left when half of the room's wall was blasted open and three tribals burst through. Leah let out a trill of laughter and gunned them down, leaving the last for Charon to take care of. They proceeded through the dilapidated manor, killing any tribals in their way, until they reached a cracked door. The room within was connected to the breach.

Leah lobbed a frag grenade through the broken door and its explosion quickly filled in the hole.

"Good," Desmond's voice growled from an intercom on the wall. "Now get back here. They're coming in through the east side."

Charon rolled his eyes and they took off for the main room. Desmond was standing in the middle enjoying a cigarette. He wordlessly pointed to the door opposite them. Charon opened his mouth to protest, but Leah tugged him along.

"Let's just get this over with. Then you can drag him through the coals for whatever he did to you and yours," she hissed under her breath as more tribals came flooding out of the door at the end of the hall. "God _damn_ it, how many of them are there?" She charged ahead at them. She'd made it about halfway when the floorboards gave out under her feet and she dropped through two stories to the basement below.

"Smoothskin!"

Charon cursed and took down the three tribals before carefully stepping to the edge of the hole. "Leah? Are you all right?"

When the cloud of dust and debris cleared, he could see her body splayed out on the ground. She slowly rolled onto her hands and knees and peered up at him, wincing slightly. "I-I'm all right! I'm fine!"

"God damn it," he growled, testing the floorboards beneath him. He was going to have to jump, and it was not going to feel great on his ankles. Especially if –

Leah's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Charon, I swear to God, if you jump –,"

"Too late!" he hollered and vaulted over the edge. Leah scrambled quickly out of the way and as soon as his boots hit the floor, he somersaulted to lessen the impact. Leah watched him, propped up as she was on her elbows.

"Okay," she admitted as he stood up and walked over to her. "That was kind of cool. Despite the heart attack it gave me."

"Silly smoothskin," he chuckled, pulling four stimpaks out of their bag. "Where?"

"Use three of them on my left ankle please. The last one on my left hip."

Charon applied the stimpaks at once. He was just helping her gingerly to her feet when the basement door was kicked in and even more people came through.

"Can't they just turn the handles and gently open doors?" Leah remarked dryly as Charon pulled out his shotgun.

"Can't you just take the stairs?" He smirked and killed the newcomers. Leah scowled, tromping ahead of him. Even after the three stimpaks, she still favored her left leg. Goddamn ankle was and always would be the death of her. They managed to climb back up the stairs and block the second breach much quicker than the last, even with Leah's slight limp. When they returned to the main room, Desmond was setting up mines near all of the doors. He looked up as they entered with a cocked eyebrow. "You two took your sweet fucking time. What, did you stop to shag halfway here? Ignore that question, I don't really want to hear the gory details. I'm sure there's going to be an ambush and I'm never wrong. Get ready. It's going to be a big one." He paused for a moment and flashed a wicked grin at Leah. "Of course, you could always just reach in and take a feel for yourself –,"

Charon's snarl cut him off and Leah rolled her eyes. "He's crazy, let it go," she muttered to her ghoul, who glared at the other man. He opened his mouth to reply when one of the doors was knocked down. The tribals stepped forward and exploded on one of Desmond's mines at once.

The crazy British ghoul erupted in gruff laughter and eliminated the last living one with his sniper rifle. Leah shot Charon a worried look and he grunted, "He's crazy, remember?"

"Good God in heaven is he," she muttered back.

Four rounds later and the wide atrium was in ruins: filled with clouds of smoke, the thick smell of death, and smears of blood. Leah put her hands on her hips and grinned at the two ghouls. "A job well done, good sirs!"

They ignored her and opted instead to exchange a long and deadly glare.

"Not bad for a slave brat and his wasteland whore master," Desmond praised . . . as much of a compliment as Leah was beginning to believe he could give, really. Charon roared in anger and she threw herself between them to prevent a fight from breaking out.

"Okay, do you guys mind explaining what all this bad blood is about?" She glanced back and forth between her ghoul and the other. "Really."

"Your pet is the one with the grudge," Desmond remarked casually, lighting himself another cigarette. "I am perfectly fine with forgetting it by now. It's been over a fucking century."

"Charon?" Leah asked, grimacing at the potential horrors that could have passed between the two ghouls as she turned to him.

"I was not always Ahzrukhal's only slave," he explained through gritted teeth. "He had another."

"Yes, that's right," Desmond agreed, ruined lips curling up into a sadistic smile. "Tess. Finest bird you'd ever see. Excepting you, of course, my dear," he added as an aside to Leah.

She ignored that with a scowl. "What happened to her?"

"Desmond fucked her. And then he killed her." Charon's voice was colder than she'd ever heard it. The words seemed to cut through the air as he spoke them.

"Oh, God," Leah whispered, reaching instinctively for his hand. He let her take it, but it was clear that the gesture had little effect on his torment.

"I'm surprised Ahzrukhal told you about that little incident," Desmond said, taking a long drag of smoke. "He didn't strike me as the type to confide in his slaves."

"I was the one to dispose of her body!" Charon snarled. "Tessa was . . . she was the closest to family I had known until I met Leah." He squeezed her hand once and glanced down at her. He caught a tear as it rolled down her cheek. "Please, do not weep. It was long ago." He looked back up, eyes hardening at once. "That does not mean I will ever forgive you for it."

The other ghoul's eyes glinted fiercely behind his glasses. "He made you get rid of her corpse? Always was a crazy bastard, Ahzrukhal. I wonder what he's up to now. . . ."

"He's dead," Leah interjected, spearing him with a glare. "And you can join him."

Charon released her hand and sauntered forward, her words as good as permission to get rid of the older ghoul.

"Now, now," Desmond said, putting his hands up. "I still need your help. There would be a reward involved," he added, "since that's what you wasteland tossheads treasure most."

"That's where you're wrong," Leah replied coldly. "Charon and I work in morals. And you go against every single one we have."

"Since that's your game, I may know a thing or two about a missing bird named Nadine." He smiled as hesitance skittered over Leah's face. "There we go. Yes, I heard you mention her on your way in. If you're a good pup, ol' Desmond may have a treat for you, understand?"

The couple both bristled under his condescending tone, but if it would help them to find Nadine, they knew they had no other choice.

"That's good," Desmond sang in approval, seeing acquiescence form in their eyes. "Don't sprain a lobe coming 'round to the idea of working with me. I'm not all that bad when it comes down to it. Now, follow me. We have lots to discuss."

"We can't trust this maniac," Charon whispered fiercely into Leah's ear as they trekked after him.

"I know that," she murmured carefully back, keeping an eye on the ghoul. "Did he really kill her? Just like that?"

"All I know is that I carried out a friend's body that night – with a dagger in her belly."

"You never told me about this Tessa."

". . . The occasion never arose to speak of her. It was not a trust issue, Leah. I love you, you know that. It was simply . . . a situational issue. When would ever be the right time to tell you about a long-dead friend?"

Leah sighed, feeling horrible. "I'm sorry. I wasn't accusing you of anything. I love you, too."

"I know you weren't. And I know you do."

"What are you two chattering about back there?" Desmond yelled over his shoulder as they stepped back into the room with the television screens. He rounded on them with a searching glare. "It's already giving me a headache."

Leah and Charon fell silent, both of them radiating waves of fury.

"Better," Desmond approved with a smile. "Those tribals have been attacking my mansion – and haven't had the common fucking courtesy of telling me why. I will need you to infiltrate their base at a chapel to the southwest of here. They won't accept an ugly minger like you in there, Charon, so it'll just have to be your lovely friend here." He nodded once at Leah.

Charon stiffened at once and Leah hissed at the thought of doing a mission alone in this foreign place. "Are you certain that they won't?"

Desmond pierced her with the most depreciating look she'd ever had the misfortune of receiving. "Of course I am fucking right!"

"Well!" Leah snapped, thoroughly offended by his disdain. "Then how am I going to get them to accept me? I'm clearly not one of them."

He dropped his face into one of his hands. "These are people who think cutting holes in their skulls will help them reach enlightenment. They're not exactly scholars here. Just go up and knock on the door real nice. Just ask questions. There won't be need for violence . . . yet. If they attack you, don't fight back. We need to be on their good side to figure out –,"

"That's it!" Charon howled, charging and slamming the older ghoul against the wall with a hand clenched around his throat. "You can kill my friends, you can insult me, you can do your best to piss me off with petty references to my past, but you cannot – absolutely _cannot_ – put Leah's life at risk and act like it does not matter in the slightest." He squeezed his neck once as a threat.

Desmond wheezed out a laugh. "All right, smoothskin," he called to Leah in a strangled gasp. "Call your dog off now. Consider me thoroughly warned."

"Charon," Leah said calmly, and there was a certain edge to her voice that he did not recognize. "Put him down."

Charon almost obeyed at once, despite his extreme confusion at her order. She never ordered him around and actually _meant it_. Why would she start now? To humiliate him in front of the man he absolutely despised? And then, realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

She was giving him a gift.

A deadly smirk passed over his face. "No." The word fell foreign on his tongue and goddamn, it tasted good.

"What was that?" Leah asked, sounding shaken.

"Yes, _what was that_?" Desmond demanded in a croak.

"I said, 'no,'" he clarified just to Desmond. He squeezed his throat again – harder this time – before letting him go and watching him slump down to the floor, his pristine white suit crinkling from the motion. He glared down at the other ghoul. "Because I am no longer a slave and I am free to do what I please."

"_Now_ you may consider yourself warned, _Desmond Lockheart_," Leah spat at him as Charon turned on his heel and marched out. "And you'd do well to remember that warning. Nobody tells my man what to do. _Least of all me_." She smiled wickedly at the furious ghoul. "Thrilling, isn't it?"

Then she, too, wheeled around and walked out, chin lifted high in the dignity she felt for her ghoul.

"Thank you for that, Leah," Charon murmured against her lips as he kissed her farewell in front of the manor. "Please, please, be careful. I will await you here. Don't do anything stupid or reckless."

"Stupid or reckless? Come on, that is _so_ not my style." Her poker face broke out into a grin as he glared. "All right, I promise to be cautious. And you please try not to kill this crazy guy yet. We still need to find out where Nadine is."

"I will see if I can get some information while you are gone," he promised. They kissed once more and then he lowered her onto the ground. She smiled up at her ghoul, cuffed his chin with her knuckles, and walked away.

Charon watched her go with worry already clenching at his heart. It was never easy, watching the love of his life walk away from him and into danger's hands, but his hands were as tied as hers were in this situation. He waited until her silhouette had faded into the ominous fog of Point Lookout before turning and heading for the skeletal remains of a greenhouse beside the mansion, shaking a cigarette out of the box in his pocket.

He just wasn't ready to deal with Desmond Lockheart.

* * *

**DaLover: you definitely _are_ a fast reader! I'm impressed! Thank you again for your reviews, they made my day! **

**To my fellow Desmond lovers: don't worry. Desmond won't be the bad guy forever. What's a story with Desmond Lockheart without a little tension and innuendo? That's why I love 'im ;)**

**As always, thanks for reading and reviewing to all!**

_**Edit: **_**Pattyn I got the e-mail alerting me of your review literally right after I'd posted this. Don't even worry about it; I'm still amazed you guys continue to review at all haha. I feel like I'm on top of the world every time I get that e-mail. Charon being aggressive? Hot? I can't believe it... hahaha. When the next chapter of Empire comes out I will probably pee a little bit. It's not weird, is it?**

**Aaaanyways, thanks as always for your lovely review! **

**P.S. This is my first chapter ever without one of those breaks in it - one continuous flow of story! Just thought I'd let everyone know.**


	6. Punga, The Gateway Fruit

"Who lingers at the threshold of transcendence?" a dreamy voice demanded through the intercom.

Leah slumped forward so that her forehead hit the cool metal. She just could not fucking believe this. "Seriously? The threshold of transcendence? Can't you just, you know, let me in?"

"What? No, you're doing it wrong!" the voice informed her impatiently, dropping its soft, stupor-like quality. "If you want to join, you're supposed to get into the right mindset, you know? And we don't just take any recruit. You've got to be willing to see the world a different way. You may not understand, but it's kind of important to us. That means you can't get in until you've gone through the ritual. Don't worry, nothing big. But it really does make a difference."

Leah sighed. "Oh. Okay. Erm, verily! I shall taketh your test. And I shall, ah, succeedeth!"

"Much better!" he approved. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice once more. "Ahem – wisely spoken, recruit. Your dedication and, uh, flexibility shall serve you well in the Ritual of the Mother Seed. Venture westward, to the great bog, and within you shall find the mother of all Punga fruit. She stands taller than a man, and her vines guide our future. Collect her seeds, and kneel before her wisdom. Only then will you be ready to enter these sacred halls."

". . . . yeah," Leah deadpanned. "Can't wait." She released the speaker button and stepped away, shooting a glare up toward the Ark & Dove Cathedral. Yeah, sacred halls indeed. What with the broken windows, broken boards, and vines overtaking the walls, it looked like the biggest piece of crap she'd ever seen.

Then again, she wasn't in the best mood. She pulled out her rifle and started walking, shoes sinking into the wet earth. She wasn't sure how she felt about this religious cult. She wasn't sure how she felt about Desmond Lockheart. But she sure as hell knew what she thought about Point Lookout.

She fucking hated it.

"Hoo-wee! I'm 'onna eat well tonight!"

"FUCK." Leah spun and let out a clatter of gunfire. The panting local galloped toward her, undaunted even as her bullets sank into his flesh. He barreled into her and they were both sent flying into the mud. Leah bashed the butt of her gun into his skull. He howled in pain and fell away, giving her the opportunity to pump a few more shots into him. Even after he'd stopped moving, she kept shooting.

Leah climbed to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster – admittedly, not a great amount. She was covered in mud by now and with every step she took, the wet substance made her armor heavier. Not to mention it was already caking in her hair. She resisted the urge to cry in frustration as she clambered her way across overgrown roots and under the long reach of sharp branches. She finally spotted an old, wooden door stuck in a rock outcropping and sighed in relief. The sooner she could do this stupid seed ritual, the sooner she could get into that chapel, and the sooner she could get back to Charon.

After three years, she still couldn't do the whole separation thing very well.

* * *

Neither could Charon, really. He paced in the manor's great foyer, chain-smoking, impatient, and frustrated. He was doing his best to tune out the ghoul lounging in the opposite side of the room, but there were just certain amounts of arrogance that simply could not be ignored.

Desmond Lockheart was sitting in a ripped chair, his legs crossed like the dignified motherfucker he was and always would be. Geri was resting his chin on his lap and the ghoul absentmindedly ran a hand over his ears. Desmond watched the ex-slave's anxious pacing in curiosity, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

"The fuck are you staring at, Lockheart?" Charon barked over his shoulder. He didn't even need to turn; he could feel the bastard's gaze on his back.

"And you said I was the one with the foul mouth," Desmond shot back at once. "I'm just curious is all. Why don't you tell me about your lady friend?"

"So you can fuck and kill her, too? Not very likely." Charon rubbed his temples. His patience wasn't going to last through the night. He really hoped Leah would hurry back.

"Maybe the first, but certainly not the second. That would be a waste. Tell me, where did you meet this bird? She's got to be patient if she'd been able to keep you around for this long."

"She is," Charon agreed curtly. "She is patient, kind, and thoughtful." He speared a glare at the other ghoul, turning to face him. "Everything you are very surely not."

Desmond searched his expression through narrowed eyes. "You really think I would come into Ahzrukhal's home and kill his slave girl just for the fun of it?"

Charon's sneer fell away immediately into uncertainty. "What do you mean?"

The other ghoul scoffed and got to his feet. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, exhaling and watching the smoke rise away into nothingness. "You knew her better than I did. She was bloody miserable. When Ahzrukhal sent her to my room, she burst into tears and begged me to kill her."

Charon dropped into an old chair near the door. It creaked and threatened to give out under his bulk. "I don't believe you."

"Of course you don't fucking believe me. You wouldn't believe me if I told you something as true as two plus two is four. But I am telling you the truth now, and don't think it doesn't tax me to do so. Your beloved Tessa walked in and threw herself at my feet. Told me she'd do anything to make me shoot her."

The younger ghoul winced and ducked his face into his hands. It wasn't so farfetched as to be unbelievable. They'd both been living through hell working for Ahzrukhal. Tessa had gotten it worse because she was a female. If it wasn't Ahzrukhal having his way with her, it was one of his friends. She was lent around like an object, something to rent for the night. Ahzrukhal, ever the courteous host. And she hadn't been a ghoul like Charon. No, she had been a smoothskin. He lifted his head, his expression strained. "So you raped her when she was vulnerable," he accused viciously.

"No, you fucking moron," Desmond disagreed, rolling his eyes. "You need to learn to pay attention when I speak. I've never raped anyone in my whole life. I am a gentleman. I told her if she wished to die so badly, that I would fulfill that desire. But she asked me for something else first. Something that would help her to feel alive for one last night."

"All right, all right. You can stop." He rubbed a hand over his face.

"She didn't want you to know she'd asked me to kill her, so I made it look like I went into a rage." He shrugged as if it were the simplest concept in the world. "You didn't search her body for bullet wounds, did you, genius?"

"I figured the blade in her gut was self-explanatory," Charon explained through gritted teeth.

"Well, it wasn't. I shot her first, and then I stabbed her corpse. It was how she wanted it to be. Look, I know you hate me and I will probably never be able to change that. I don't really fucking care. However, I don't want _anyone_ thinking I'm the sort of savage animal that would rape and kill some slave girl. I'm an arsehole, but I'm no monster." He took a long drag of smoke, stroking Freki's head at his side. He glanced up and saw Charon's lost expression. "She told me to tell you not to hurt me if you ever found out. Like I stuck around long enough for that to even be an option." He snorted. "I may have done her a favor, but I'm no fucking saint."

Charon sighed, slumping down in his chair.

"Believe me now?" Desmond challenged, raising the remains of an eyebrow at him.

"I cannot say that it does not make sense. Towards the end, she was severely depressed." He lit himself another cigarette. "What you are telling me now . . . I _can_ believe it. Fuck." He pulled Leah's bag from where he'd left it on the floor and pulled out the bottles of whiskey his smoothskin kept around for emergencies such as these. "I am too sober to be sifting through these memories again."

"Throw one here," Desmond said bitterly. "Talking about it leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

Charon tossed the other ghoul one of the bottles and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Feeling remorse?"

"Don't mess your pants up at the idea, Charon. You're wrong anyways. I ruined one of my best suits that night." Desmond Lockheart opened the bottle and took a long swig.

Charon sighed, taking a drink for himself. It wasn't much, but maybe deep down, it was the most of an apology Desmond was able to give. He drifted into pleasant inebriation, thinking of an old friend, and how he wanted his smoothskin back in his arms so bad it hurt.

* * *

Leah stepped cautiously up to the giant punga fruit. It was indeed larger than a man. In fact, it was fucking humongous. Its brown, ugly arms swung all the way down to brush the swamp water beneath it. She approached the large, purple seeds nestled deep within the fruit's heart. She exhaled, braced herself, and reached in to grab one.

The instant her fingertips made contact with the fruit, several things happened. The seed was warm beneath her touch, shocking her into pulling her hand back. A burst of gold dust exploded at her, infiltrating her nostrils and shooting straight up her nose. She gasped for breath, her nasal passage blocked completely by the cloying powder. Her body collapsed straight to the ground and she found herself paralyzed for the third time in her life.

Her vision began to tilt and tint different colors, blue then red then green. She closed her eyes to stave off the inevitable nausea, but it never came. The punga must have been keeping it away. Instead, she merely felt a floating feeling, light in her muscles. When she opened her eyes again, the bog was upside down. It took her a long moment to realize that she was on her back. With shaking movements she climbed slowly to her feet, using her rifle as a crutch. She rotated on the spot. When her vision moved, it would blur in tails of wild color and detail, as if it just couldn't keep up with her body. The drifting feeling persisted as she took a few tentative steps forward.

It was almost pleasant, at first. She skirted through the sacred bog. She could've sworn she was walking _on top of _the water. A miracle. When she reached a small patch of dirt, a giant version of a Vault-Tec Intelligence Bobblehead faded into view before her.

Leah jumped, crying out. The sound echoed in her head, twisting and distorting into the deep laughter of a demon. She clapped her hands to tune the sound out and blinked until she could read the inscription of the Bobblehead. When she leaned close, the blonde Vault Boy burst to life, his face twisting into a derisive sneer.

"Tsk tsk. Walked right into another trap. Exactly how stupid are you?"

Leah stumbled away from it, feeling hurt. _I'm not stupid! I'm not! _She floated her way through more of the bog, the trees and swamp water and bushes all merging into blurs of green and brown and gray. A loud, grating noise assaulted her ears and she fell back onto her ass as the red silhouette of a giant saw began cutting through the dirt around her. She screamed and sprinted away, nearly tripping over another Vault-Tec Bobblehead. It was the Strength one this time. He laughed openly at her.

"This is one situation you're not going to be able to fight your way out of," he informed her with a cruel smirk.

"STOP IT!" she shrieked, running past. A giant needle and thread appeared beside her as she ran, moving up and down through the earth in a sewing motion, keeping pace. She tried to ignore it, her breath coming hard and fast. She managed to keep sprinting until she came to a section of the bog that was upside down. It was literally just . . . upside down. As in the treetops were beneath her feet and when she looked up, she could see a campfire and rocks. A Perception Bobblehead was hanging upside down among them.

"This doesn't look right, not right at all!"

Leah choked back a sob as she continued to run. The world righted itself once more, giving her enough vertigo to send her falling to the ground again. She landed hard in the dirt and clambered back to her feet, tears streaming down her face. Empty Nuka-Cola bottles were bobbing around in the swamp water. Each one she passed exploded into a small mushroom cloud, letting out the sound of a baby's laughter with each blast. The ground shook beneath her feet, but she knew if she stopped running something horrible would happen.

"Isn't it funny how everything you get close to ends up leaving?" an Agility Bobblehead asked her, in the echoing voice of her father.

Leah let out an ear-shattering scream and pushed past the Bobblehead in horror. An Endurance one called at her as she passed, "Keep it up, you're almost there! Wherever 'there' may be. . . probably nowhere. . . ." She nearly plowed over a hospital bed in the middle of the pathway. Through the swirls of color and light, Leah could just barely make out the image of a skeleton sprawled out across it, a party hat askew near its head and birthday balloons floating from the corners of the cot. The skeleton struck her straight to the heart and the sound of a heartbeat monitor began to tick away in her ears.

_Mom._

A Charisma Bobblehead appeared between the skeleton's legs, smiling up at her. "Blech! If my kid looked like that, I'd abandon it, too."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Leah pulled her rifle from her back and splattered the bed with bullets. The heartbeat beeping away in her ears sped up to a frantic level before the bed, skeleton, and bobblehead all exploded into nothingness in a poof of light. She clutched her gun close and continued to run. Swamp water wet her body as she splashed clumsily through it, the cold biting her sensitive skin. Corpses floated to the surface around her, corpses she knew very well. Amata. Moira. Elder Lyons, his body curled around that of his dead daughter. Gob and Nova. Her father.

When she stumbled across Joseph's body, she felt a shard of ice pierce her heart. Sorrow burst through her chest like a force of nature, rocking the angle of her entire world. There could be nothing worse than the pain she felt at the sight of his corpse.

She was dead fucking wrong.

"NO!" she screamed, falling onto her knees beside Charon's body. His eyes were closed, arm twisted grotesquely over his chest. She clutched his face in her hands and sobbed.

"It appears you've gone quite mad, my dear."

She looked up in horror to see Mr. Burke leaning against Megaton's nuke. He tipped his hat at her and smiled that toothy smirk that was just so familiar. Leah dragged herself onto her feet and approached him. One more Bobblehead popped up at her feet. Luck.

"Think he'll still remember you after you die? Three years out of two hundred isn't really all that long," Vault Boy taunted her with a sadistic grin. "Have fun disappearing into nothingness when he finds another 'smoothskin.'"

Leah grabbed the Bobblehead in her hands, Vault Boy screaming and quivering under her hold as she grabbed him by the neck and ripped his head from his body. Blood exploded over her armor, bright, burning red, staining her vision. She stared up at Mr. Burke with a savage wildness in her eyes. "And what the fuck do _you_ have to tell me?" she screamed at him.

"Looks like you're gonna pull through, my friend!" Mr. Burke said, his voice twisted into a different one, one she couldn't quite put her finger on. She shrieked and pushed past him, grabbing her rifle and slamming the butt of it onto the atom bomb behind him.

"No, no, d-don't try and get up yet!" he pleaded, pulling at her armor. "You'll only hurt yourse –,"

Leah hit the nuke one last time with her rifle and it exploded, sending her flying back through the air.

Her body never touched ground.

* * *

Leah awoke who knows how long later at the bog's entrance. She felt like she'd gotten drunk and then into a fight with a behemoth. She could still remember the disturbing images from her trip in the bog, but at least she knew it had all been because of that fucking punga plant. She climbed slowly to her feet and pulled out a small, tin box she kept in her back pocket. She sifted through the pills within and popped a few Buffout. She was going to need the boost.

The trip back to the cathedral wasn't long, but it was painful. Every gunshot she loosed at a savage or smuggler or ghoul felt like another nail being driven into her skull. She put a hand to her head and doubled over, nearly collapsing from the waves of nausea she felt.

That's when she realized it. Her hand patted along her head and she gaped in completely horror.

_My hair! My fucking hair!_

Despite everything she'd been through in the bog, this had to be the biggest devastation. It just wasn't fucking fair. This Desmond asshole was _not_ worth all of this.

It was with tears in her eyes that she approached the cathedral. She wiped them away and lifted her head, setting her shoulders. She smacked the speaker button with her fist.

"I did your stupid fucking ritual! Open these doors before I pull out my grenades!" she roared fiercely.

The doors burst to life at once, swinging open to allow her entrance. She stepped into the punga garden and peered around to see a black man in tribal garb staring at her in admiration. "You've survived the ritual. Welcome to enlightenment, my sister. The others await you inside."

"I should cut off your balls for making me go through that," Leah threatened coldly. When he blanched, she sent him a cruel smile. "I might still do it. If you're smart, you'll be gone by the time I return." She brushed past him and into the cathedral. The sound of his rapid footsteps was the last thing she heard before the doors closed.

The first thing she noticed—besides the lines of punga fruits where pews had surely once rested—was a girl with flaming red hair in the back of the room.

Leah closed her eyes. She took a few long, deep breaths. She counted to ten a few times. Thought about Charon and his normal calm, collected composure. Because there was surely no way – no fucking way _at all_ – that she had done all of this shit for Desmond, only to find Nadine alive and well in this cathedral. She could've just shot her way in. Could've killed every crazy godforsaken bastard in her way.

"Hey, newbie!"

Her eyelids flew open and the red-haired girl was standing in front of her. She wasn't beautiful, but she had a nice voice. "You all right there? Sometimes it's rough, after that ritual and all . . . understandable, seeing what they do to you there, really."

"What did they do to me?" Leah demanded, more fear in her tone than she would have liked.

"Can't you feel it?" She took hold of Leah's hand and led it up to a line of ridges on her scalp.

"Oh, God," Leah gasped, running her fingers along the scar. "I don't fucking believe it."

"I'm still trying to figure out what asshole did it," the redhead assured her. "Name's Nadine. I'll let you know when I find out."

"Please and thank you. I'll show the bastard a piece of my mind." Leah sighed, shaking her head. "My name is Leah. Your mother Catherine sent me to find you."

"Oh, jeez. Don't get me wrong, Leah, I love my mama, but she can be the most overbearing bitch you've ever met."

Leah smiled sadly. "My mother's name was Catherine, too. Never knew her, though."

"Died in childbirth?"

"You guessed it."

"That's rough, newbie. I'm sorry to hear it. If you see her again, will you tell my ma that I'm fine and I'll come home eventually? I just need some time to . . . explore. Become my own person, ya know?"

"I get it. Don't worry, I'll let her know." Leah rubbed at her scar, her headache pounding away in her ears. "Look, can you just tell me who's in charge here? These tribals have been attacking that mansion to the east and the owner's going to be a pain in my ass until I figure out who's doing it."

"Sure thing. The weirdo's name is Jackson. He likes to huddle off in his secret sea cave to the northeast. I nicked a key from one of the higher-ups one day." She winked and pulled a slender gold key from her pocket.

Leah took it with an exhausted, grateful smile. "Thank you, Nadine."

"No problem, newbie. Come stop by when you're ready to head back to the mainland. I . . . I think I'll come with you. At least let my mom see that I'm not dead, you know?"

Leah nodded understandingly and walked out of the cathedral, feeling numb. She pocketed the key and angled herself northeast. As much as she wanted to see Charon, she also wanted to get this whole deal over and done with. If it meant tracking some crazy bastard into an abandoned sea cave, then so fucking be it.

The sea cave's entrance turned out to be an abandoned submarine. She used the key to open its hatch and climbed carefully down the long ladder. Her head was still aching and all of this walking certainly wasn't helping. She popped a few more Buffout before following the cave wall. The pathway was edged with more swamp water, the wall lined with lamps. She broke out into a large cavern. On a ledge up in the distance knelt a man. He bowed his head before a metal table with a hologram device on it. The image of a brain was floating from its base.

_Oh-kay. Now I've really seen it all._ Leah cleared her throat as she scaled the incline toward them. "Jackson?"

"Who has ventured into my cavern of enlightenment?" he demanded, whirling on her with wide eyes.

"Are you the one who cut my fucking brain open?" she asked, pointing unnecessarily at her scar.

"No," Jackson answered, seeming mollified that at least she was one of the tribe members. "But I am the one who dictates our sacred rituals."

Leah moved so fast Jackson couldn't track the movement. One moment she was standing three feet from him, the next she was flying at him and her fist was connecting with his face. He stumbled back onto his ass, groaning in pain and shock.

"That's for making up such a stupid fucking ritual. You'll get another if you don't tell me who cut my head open," she hissed cruelly.

"The ferryman!" he cried at once. "He transports our souls to enlightenment just as he transports us to distant shores!"

Trembling with rage, Leah hit him again. And maybe once more. She hit him until Jackson screamed and sprinted off into the distance. He ran to another long ladder which presumably led to the surface again and she let him go. She'd find him again and kill him later.

For now, she turned to the brain hologram. "Erm. Hello?"

"Hello, girl. You're not much to look at, but at least you're not drooling all over yourself."

"Quite an achievement after all that shit," Leah grumbled to herself. "What do you use the tribe for?"

"They're useless! I've sent them after my old mansion, and they cannot even remove a single ghoul! Desmond must die, and they're doing a pisspoor job of getting it done!"

Leah took two calculating seconds before asking, "Who's Desmond?"

"Are you daft, girl? Desmond is the sack of rotting flesh that has inhabited my old home. No doubt he is using it as a base to try and get rid of me. We've been playing this game for centuries. However, that is none of your fucking business. For now, girl, what I have interest in is a device he has possession of. He has a jammer that limits my projection range to this pathetic cave. Remove that, and I can extend my reach much further. Killing Desmond would be a nice plus, but I'm sure we can get around to that later."

She tucked all that information away and nodded once. "Sure, Brainiac. I'll go get that jammer for you." She nearly lost it as she could feel waves of anger roll off of him. "Don't . . . don't _move a muscle_." Leah burst into laughter as she walked away, ignoring the barrage of curses he shot after her retreating figure. It was in a considerably better spirit that she climbed the ladder. She'd gotten answers and answers meant she could find solutions. She knew who was trying to kill Desmond. She'd found Nadine.

Now all she had to figure out was how she would enjoy killing Tobar the Ferryman the most.

* * *

**Goddamn, I love that quest. I've done it at least ten times hahaha. The whole Point Lookout add-on was brilliant. I don't believe there's a Fallout fan out there who doesn't love Desmond (at least out of all the female ones). **

**ManInAMask01 and DaLover, thank you for the really generous reviews. You made me blush :3 There's nothing like having people follow your story and review every chapter.**

**And, as always, I have Pattyn to thank. You know why you're amazing. **


	7. Journey On Through What You Feel Inside

Of course Desmond was the one to answer the door, because wasn't that just the perfect cherry on top of her ice cream sundae of an adventure? He squinted behind his glasses to take in her tired form as Charon appeared at the top of the stairs over his shoulder.

"I'd still shag you," he said conversationally, "hair or no hair. I'm an arse man myself and might I say you have quite the fine one."

"Thanks, Desmond," Leah said with a wince. "For that resounding reassurance of my appeal as a woman."

Charon appeared in an instant and pulled her up into his arms, kissing her hard.

"You're going to get mud all over the carpets," Desmond complained, but the couple ignored him. Charon drew her into the foyer and inspected her. She was coated in sludge and blood. Her rifle and armor were caked in mud. She stared up at him with sad eyes and he took in her scalp, which was cropped with a short buzz of hair and one long, arching scar.

Charon's body was rigid with fury. "What happened?" He barely managed to force the words through his clenched teeth.

Leah's lips quivered, a sight so pathetic and sad that it pierced his heart. "I had to undergo a ritual to join their tribe. I went to this bog and inhaled punga essence. I had . . . a bad trip. When I woke up, m-my hair was gone." That was where she lost it and Charon embraced her. She wailed into his shoulder. "My hair!"

"Yes, smoothskin, I understand," Charon murmured comfortingly into her ear, stroking the small of her back. "But who is the one that cut your skull open? I will make him pay – and sorely."

"I was h-hoping you'd say that," she said in a stronger voice, pulling away to smile a little at him. "It was Tobar. Let's just say he'll have a surprise waiting for him when we get back to the mainland." She toyed with one of the straps of his armor. "I-I don't know what the punga did to me. I stumbled through the bog. It was awful. I saw . . . I saw my mother's skeleton. And corpses. Amata's. Joseph's . . . _yours._" Her voice gave out on the last word and she buried her face into his neck.

"Jesus Christ, smoothskin," Charon growled, pulling her up into his arms. "Lockheart, are there showers here?"

"Of course there are bloody showers here," Desmond snarled back around a cigarette. "You think I'd live somewhere where there _weren't_ showers? Especially in a sodding mud-hole like this one. You're still thick as ever, Charon."

He rolled his eyes, but ignored him and started to trek up the stairs.

"Wait!" Desmond ordered, coming closer, Freki and Geri following closely. "You haven't told me anything about what the fuck those mud-lovers want with me."

"It was the old owner of this mansion behind it," Leah explained through a yawn, her eyelids suddenly very heavy. "He was telling those idiots what to do. They think he's some divine god, but he's just a hologram of a brain."

Desmond's brow furrowed and he looked down. "That sneaky fucking bastard."

"Yeah, that's what I said, too. Anyways, I found Nadine, so we won't be needing your help anymore. Good luck with this 'game' of yours," Leah said wearily.

"No, that won't do at all," Desmond disagreed coldly. "I know you've been through one hell of an initiation, but the rest should be easy. I'll need your help cutting off his signal."

Charon growled ominously, but Leah cut him off with a tired pat on the shoulder. "All right. I'll help you. Whatever. Just . . . let's talk about this in the morning."

Desmond snorted, but did not protest. "All right. I shall be here in the morning. The showers are down the hall on your right. Stay in any bedroom you like. Don't let me hear you two shagging or I swear to god I will sic my pups on you."

Charon climbed the rest of the staircase and carried his exhausted smoothskin down the hall. He shouldered the door to the bathroom open and set her gently down onto her feet. Leah padded forward and started the water, still in her armor. She let the warm spray wash the caked mud from her clothing. Charon watched in concern as she gently began to take apart the leather armor. He helped her remove every last strap and plate and set them aside until she was completely naked under the stream of water. He then disrobed himself and joined her under the spray.

Leah sighed in relief and pressed her body flush against his. His rough skin was deliciously warm. He made a soft grumbling noise in his throat and pulled her close, running a hand through the brutally short hair that remained on her head.

"Do you still love me without hair?" she asked quietly. It felt absurd to think of the disturbing images from the bog while she was safe here in his arms.

"Of course I do, Leah. I will always love you, hair or no hair. Even if you gain two hundred pounds and a third arm. I will always love you and only you. It is not what is here that I cherish," he murmured, kissing the top of her head, "but what is here." He placed a hand over her left breast to feel her heartbeat. "You know that."

Leah ducked her face into his shoulder, willing herself not to cry. It didn't work. She melted into heaving sobs, trying to crush herself so close to him that their bodies fused together.

"Leah?" He cradled her head upward to meet her gaze. Her blue eyes were light with pain that pierced his heart to see. "What happened?"

She looked away, her throat tightening. She was crying so hard it was difficult to speak. "I j-just saw some things . . . hallucinations . . . i-it's hard to d-describe," she sobbed.

"Take your time," he murmured comfortingly, rubbing her back until her quivering ceased and she progressed past the dry heaving.

Leah wiped her eyes, feeling weak, vulnerable, for the first time in a very long time. "Charon," she began slowly, unwilling to meet his eyes, "what are you going to do when I die?"

Her ghoul did not answer for a long time, but his brow furrowed in immediate consternation. His warm hands ran down the backs of her arms, over her elbows, all the way to her hands, where he closed his fingers around her wrists and brought them up to his face. He kissed her palms and each finger, one at a time, his eyes hot and intense on hers. Finally, he lowered her hands back to her sides and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, ducking his face next to hers. "Leah," he whispered quietly and the waver in his voice rocked her to her core. "I . . . I have not thought about it. The idea brings me such pain that I cannot even fathom . . . I can't imagine . . ." His voice tapered off into silence, fading into the constant _shhh_ of the water spraying over them and into the bottom of the tub.

"Will you forget about me?"

She could tell at once that there was nothing else she could have said to make him more upset. He gripped her face and forced her to look into his eyes. "Leah Rose Montgomery," he said in slow deliberation, "what in hell could ever make you think I could _forget about you_?" he demanded. "God, I . . . I couldn't forget about you if I fucking tried!"

Leah was maudlin once more, erupting into incoherent sobs and trembling in his arms.

"Jesus Christ, Leah, whatever you saw in that bog . . . _it means nothing_. You are my entire world and if you don't believe that, then you are crazier than I first assumed," he assured her quietly. "When you die, I will surely perish."

Her eyes widened and it was her turn to be angry. "What the f-fuck does _that_ mean?" she cried.

Charon rolled his eyes. "I will give my life to protect you. If something manages to kill you despite that, then I will already be awaiting you on the other side. It's a simple concept, really, smoothskin." He huddled her close and exhaled a tired sigh. "You're not going to die, though, Leah," he added matter-of-factly.

She snorted through her tears. "Whatever you may think of me, I'm not so amazing as to be immortal, Charon."

"Leah, I love you. More and more every day. Sometimes so much that it almost hurts. Frequently enough to make me realize that the two hundred years of slavery was worth it."

"Charon, I –,"

"Try _not_ to interrupt me when I am trying to make you feel better, smoothskin. I could never forget you. You are the only one I have ever loved and that will _always_ be true, always. And . . . if you are too stubborn to realize that after a few hallucinations in a bog made you doubtful, then I will just have to prove it to you."

Leah looked warily up at him, sniffling ungracefully. "How –,"

Charon cut her question off with a kiss, one that was passionate enough to make her head spin as, very suddenly, his hands and mouth were the only thing she could feel. The tub beneath her feet and the cooling water rolling down her skin faded into nothing so that she felt she was floating and only his hold on her kept her grounded. Leah lost herself in the sensation of his lips against hers, his warm mouth, the taste of him—slightly sweet, like a chilled Nuka-Cola, filling her with heat. His tongue grazed her bottom lip, as if asking a question, and her strangled groan was more than enough of an answer. He jerked her up into his arms and she felt herself moving as she locked her legs around his waist. He must have been carrying her somewhere and she didn't care where, as long as he kept holding her and kissing her like this. The bang of a door slamming into a wall barely breached her consciousness—her entire life was _sensation_ at that moment, her world spinning until her back hit something soft, Charon's body never leaving hers when he landed beside her on an old mattress, his warm skin, his hot hands bathing her body in warmth.

Charon tilted her face upward and she got lost in the force of his gaze, the potency of the love there that there was just no mistaking as anything else. His mouth was tender, heartbreakingly soft on hers as he explored her mouth with such curiosity and care that it felt like it was the first time all over again.

He worshipped her body, bathed in it, adored every inch of her skin with such intense attention from the backs of her knees to the dips of her collarbone to the hardened nubs of her breasts to the small section of sensitive skin beneath each ear. Leah's chest was heaving from the onslaught of sensation by the time he was satisfied that he had surveyed every part of her body. Every part but one. Somehow she had already rolled through one orgasm, just from his touches, not one of them near the junction of her thighs.

When she could catch her breath enough to peel open her eyes, Leah caught sight of the burning triumph in Charon's gaze. "How?" she panted, smiling breathlessly up at him.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I have no idea," he muttered, running his fingertips down one of her sweat-slick calves. "All I know is that I am nowhere near through with you."

Satisfaction bloomed in his chest as her eyes widened in both fierce amazement and maybe even a little bit of apprehension. That was good. That was really fucking good. Feeling his ego inflate to dangerous levels, he grabbed her by the ankles and yanked her body toward him, angling her legs over his shoulders as he lowered his face to her hips. He cocked a grin at her when her breath hitched in her throat.

Leah loved being manhandled and god damn if Charon didn't know that – and use it to his advantage. She'd always suspected that deep down, he loved letting out the alpha male in him, probably after being a slave for so long. It didn't matter why. All that really mattered was that Charon was currently running a rough lick up the sensitive folds of her core. Sharp, electric pleasure shot through her body, arching in her back, eliciting a strangled cry from her burning throat. She could feel him chuckle into her skin, the cocky bastard.

"Do you believe me now?" he muttered, propping himself up on his elbows.

Leah barely had the strength to lift her head and glare at him. "I . . . not yet," she managed to gasp out. She bucked her hips as a hint. "I think you still . . . have a bit of convincing . . . to do."

Charon laughed and probed her gently with his tongue, savoring her high mewling and the way her legs trembled over his shoulders. It did not take long for him to send her over the edge into another shrieking, back-bending, toe-curling climax. Her thighs and hips tightened as her voice lilted up into a high, half-moan-half-scream and then her entire body relaxed and slumped against the bed, allowing Charon to disentangle himself and crawl back up beside her.

It took Leah a few moments to gather her breath and enough energy to turn her face and meet his satisfied smirk. She trilled out an exhausted laugh, cupping his cheek with her soft hand. "Okay . . . I believe you now, Charon."

"Good, because I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to last," he confessed with a crooked grin.

She cocked an eyebrow at him in silent question. "What happened to the whole 'nowhere near through with you' thing?"

"Do you honestly think that after seeing you come twice I am going to be able to hold it in? Watching you come is the most arousing thing in the world. No question about it."

Leah groaned as his gruff, husky voice went straight to the junction beneath her navel. "Jesus Christ, Charon. I'm so ready for you."

"I can tell," he chuckled into her skin, rolling his hand down her body to her wet core. "As am I." He pulled her up onto her hands and knees and positioned himself behind her. "Is this okay?"

"God damn it, Charon, you never need to ask that question," she growled, wiggling her ass at him invitingly.

"And you never need to do _that_," he groaned with a hand on the small of her back to stop her, "unless you want this to be over with before it is begun."

Leah bit her lip to suppress an animalistic growl and stop herself from doing it again. As much as she loved teasing him, she also liked having three orgasms in one night; she didn't want to stop herself from getting off for the third time. She was just pondering how long it would take to climax again when he slid into her with no warning and _god damn it was amazing _feeling him glide into her so deep it literally took her breath away.

"Oooo!" she cried, her arms collapsing beneath her weight as she lost the strength to hold herself up any longer. "_Yes!_" she gargled incoherently into the pillow that her face was smushed against—she didn't fucking care that she could barely breath, all she cared about was the feeling of his cock lodged so far into her that she could feel nothing else, not his fingernails scraping up her sides or her knees threatening to give out or the recent despair at her loss of hair and wavering faith in his love for her, not any of it anymore and _god damn_ she loved him more than anything and she knew at that very moment that she had been silly to ever doubt his feelings for her.

Charon let out a hiss so animalistic and primal that it sent shivers up her spine. He tangled a hand in her hair, all previous tenderness erased from their lovemaking—if it could still be called that. It was more like savage fucking and she would not have had it any other way. She deserved to be punished for being so ridiculous earlier and she would take what he had to give. A few swivels of his hips and she knew she was going to be bruised and aching in the morning—it was _lovely_. Leah felt herself begging for more, pleads melting from her lips and disappearing, muffled, into the pillow, but _oh, fuck, please more, Charon, more, harder, faster!_ And _oh, oh!_ There it was, that third orgasm, grabbing hold of her and shaking her to the very core, blinding her with colored shooting stars behind her clenched eyelids, immobilizing her beneath the ghoul she loved, filling her with heat and bliss and actively paralyzing her, making her helpless as the rapture took over.

The world was fading into nothingness around him because there was no way in hell that such _pleasure_ could exist as Leah's body tightening under and around him, her core biting down on his length so hard that he thought he was losing his mind from the rapturous sensation. He pushed her name out through his gritted teeth, heard her scream a confirmation at her mutual ecstasy. His body bent down over hers and he barely managed to catch himself with hands planted firmly on either side of her thin torso so that he did not collapse and crush her beneath his weight—her tiny body sucked every last pulse of pleasure from his body in their simultaneous climax.

Charon tilted his forehead against the back of her neck, panting as he struggled to regain his breath, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her lavender smell, made sharper by sweat, causing his mind to swim.

"Oh . . . my . . . God," Leah slurred into the pillowcase. Her body was trembling beneath his as she realized there was no way she could pull herself back up. It didn't seem like that bad of a fate after the mindblowing orgasm she'd just had. "You'll have to help me, Charon," she mumbled, her voice low and shaken. "I-I don't think I can move."

"And you think I can?" he asked in mild shock, followed by his normal husky laugh. "You overestimate me, smoothskin."

Then, many things happened at once.

Leah managed to push herself up on her hands, Charon hooked a strong arm around her torso to help, twisting her body around so that they could enjoy a passionate, albeit subdued and exhausted kiss.

And then Desmond Lockheart threw the door to their bedroom open with the world's deadliest glare.

"Did you think I was fucking joking?" the British ghoul shouted at them. Leah toppled off of the bed and landed hard on the floor, the wind getting knocked out of her. Charon cursed, grabbing the sheets and twisting them around his waist, tossing one to his smoothskin.

"God _damn_ it, Desmond!" Leah screeched, turning bright red as it brought the ghoul's attention to her naked, orgasm-flushed body. She wrapped the blanket around herself, shivering in the abrupt cold and embarrassment.

He took a moment to absorb the sight of her bare flesh . . . and _then_ he exploded. "I CANNOT FUCKING BELIEVE YOU WOKE ME UP WITH YOUR DISGUSTING, BARBARIC SHAGGING!"

"Oh, please," Leah sighed as she gestured for Charon to scoot out of the way. She clambered back onto the bed and curled up into his side, trying to ignore her humiliation. "We're done now anyways. Go back to sleep, you big fucking grump."

Desmond inclined his head, fists trembling in hot, British anger, before he yelled "Fuck you!" turned on his heel, and stomped away, slamming the door again behind him as he went.

Silence settled in the dark room, his angry footsteps fading into the quiet. Charon and Leah exchanged a glance. She cracked first, erupting into a fit of giggles, and Charon rolled his eyes.

"This is quite possibly the worst afterglow I have ever experienced."

"Am I not good enough?" she teased, cheeks pink with laughter.

"The last thing I want to see after I come is Desmond Lockheart's mustached face."

Leah howled with laughter and he tucked the blankets in around her a little rougher than necessary. "Do you believe me now?" he asked curtly, still shaking off the awkwardness of Desmond's interruption.

"I do," she reassured him, kissing his ruined cheek. "I believe you. I'm sorry I was so insecure earlier."

"It happens to the best of us. And if you aren't the best person I know . . . well, I don't know what to say after that. You _are_ the best person I know."

"Oh, Charon," she sighed as he wrapped his warm arms around her. She smiled as he traced patterns into the sheen of sweat on her stomach. "That was, quite possibly, the best sex I've ever had."

"Great," he grumbled in frustration.

She frowned, brow furrowing in consternation. "Is that not good? You blew my mind!"

"Now I'll have to live up to that expectation every time," he informed her with a teasing smile. "How am I supposed to do _that_?"

"Good question," she agreed, playing along with a frown. "I guess we'll have to find some way to spice things up."

"And what do you propose, my curious smoothskin?"

"Well, I could tie you up –,"

"Not happening."

"A threesome?"

"No."

"But what if it's another woman?"

"Leah, I honestly cannot be attracted to anyone but you."

"Not even somebody super hot? Like Sarah Lyons?"

Charon honest-to-God shuddered against her body. "No, smoothskin. She may be pretty to you, but I would not be able to get over the fact that one, she is not you, and two, she is the world's biggest bitch."

Leah snorted in amusement. "All right, then. How about role-playing?"

When Charon did not immediately shoot her down, her interest was piqued to dangerous levels. "Oh, my God, would you really?" she asked in excitement. "What kind of role-playing? Oh, I am _so_ interested now!"

"Keep it down before Lockheart comes bursting back in," Charon said in a tired voice, clamping a hand over her mouth. "I never said I would _like_ it. I just have no urgent aversion to the _idea_," he grumbled.

Leah shook off his hand and grinned, teeth glinting in the darkness. "I'll have to keep that in mind. Ooh, the idea is making me excited."

"I do not think I could manage a second run right now, smoothskin."

"I don't think I could manage standing up right now," she agreed with a small laugh. "But it's something to remember for other times."

"Why do I get the feeling I will regret telling you this, Leah?"

"Because you will." She kissed him with a small, rare giggle. "Wub you, honey bunch."

"Leah," he growled warningly.

"Ha-ha, all right, all right. I love you very much."

"Love you, too, smoothskin. Wouldn't have put up with half of this shit if I didn't."

"And for that, I am grateful."

Charon held an arm out so she could nuzzle into the warmth of his shoulder, an arm splayed comfortably out over his rough chest, a leg cocked over one of his. She'd once told him that now, after years of sleeping tangled with his body, it was nearly impossible for her to sleep alone. It had touched him to an unbelievable level and he cherished sleeping with her just as much. He smiled when her breathing slowed to a low pace, indicating that she had fallen asleep, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Me, too, smoothskin. Me, too."

* * *

**Uhh... yeah, pretty much just smut in this one haha. Forgive me, but I'm terribly sick and high on cold medicine right now. Also, sometimes you just need some smut. I know I do, anyways. There will be some plot involved in this story, I promise you! Just... not in this chapter hahaha. **

**As always, Pattyn, you get the first thank you for your reviews. They're like clockwork every time and every time they make me feel like I won some kind of prize where the reward is... I don't know, something awesome like free gas for a year or something as cool as that (which in California is pretty freakin' awesome, 'cause our gas prices are getting up to $3.90 a gallon... D:) I return the Internet hugs big time. You deserve it!**

**DaLover, Vermin-lord, TheLittlestReaper, and ManInAMask01... you guys are awesome! I am so glad you guys like it :3 Your reviews keep me going, they really do, where would I be without you guys? ... well, I don't know, but when I say a heartfelt thank you, I mean it! You guys are the bee's knees!**

**P.S. The title of this chapter is from Merry Ellen Kirk's "All Your Life." I pretty much OD'ed on her album _Invisible War_ while I wrote this chapter.**


	8. A Meeting of the Minds

It sure was awkward the next morning, nobody doubted that. Charon did his best to ignore it—in his classic _Charon_ way—as he shoved down spoonfuls of Sugar Bombs, more to occupy his mouth and make an excuse for not talking than to actually provide himself with sustenance.

Desmond Lockheart was pacing on the opposite side of the room, Freki ever faithful at his heels. The other dog Geri was curled up on at Leah's feet where she sat in an old, torn chair in a lounging room just off the main atrium. The beast had taken a liking to her and she'd be lying if she said it wasn't mutual. The fluffy dog looked a lot like Dogmeat, whom she realized she missed sorely and couldn't wait to treat with a bit of brahmin steak when she got home. She rubbed him fondly behind the ears and he lolled his doggy tongue out at her. When she glanced up, the foyer was just as awkward and silent as it had been five minutes ago.

"Oh, all right," she griped, getting up to her feet. Geri trotted happily after her as she strode into the foyer and turned to Desmond. "So Charon and I woke you up with our '_shagging_,' you got to see me naked, isn't that a fair enough trade-off?"

Both ghouls wheeled on their feet to glare at her, effectively withering away any confidence she'd strutted into the room with.

"I mean, we're all adults here. Hell, you guys are, like, centuries older than me. This can't be that big of a deal."

The men exchanged a look of mutual irritation, and Desmond was, again, the first to shrug the tension off. "All right, all right, fair enough, little smoothskin. As long as it doesn't happen again."

"Great!" Leah grinned and appealed to her ghoul with pleading eyes.

Charon sighed and set down his bowl, gesturing her over. She skipped across the room and into his arms, where he held her close.

"I know, I know, I'm lucky you love me," she chimed before he could say so.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his throat by her ear. "At least you've got that down by now."

"All right, Lockheart," Leah called, rotating in his arms so that she could face the other ghoul.

He looked up at her, his hands stuffed with dignity into the pockets of his fine-pressed suit, eyes glinting curiously, cleverly, coldly behind his glasses.

"What's your plan, old man?"

His smile was absolutely cruel and she had to admit, it fitted his face just fine. "It didn't take me long to come up with. That shriveled up old brain is using those mindless mud-lovers? That means he's off transmitting to them. Without those buggers to do things for him, he won't be able to do anything for himself. If I know Calvert, and I do, then he's using a high frequency cognitive sine broadcast. And I have just the device to jam up his little talkbox." He led them over into the room with the wall of television screens and pulled out an old, dusty ammunition box. He lifted the lid impatiently and pulled out a small, remote-like device with a long antenna. "Here," he said, offering it to them. Leah took it and rotated it in her hands, curiously inspecting the device. "You'll need to take it to the highest point on the shore and install it."

"The Ferris wheel," Leah replied at once, smirking in confidence.

"Easy, right? Just install it on the bottom car, turn it on, and spin the jammer up to the top. No fuckin' problem."

She had to admit, it was the perfect plan. Also, she wasn't likely to be shot at. While violence was never a deal-breaker, it was always nice to know she'd be safe doing something. Charon took the device and stuffed it carefully into the bag on his back, nodding at Leah in acknowledgement.

"So, just who _is_ this Calvert guy?" she asked in curiosity. Charon rolled his eyes. She always had to know _everything_.

"My old rival. So close to his family home, only _he_ would be so _stupid_." He nearly spat, he seemed so disgusted. "He was once a man—Professor Calvert. The Calverts owned half of Maryland, back when there was a Maryland to own. Members of the Calvert family were influential all over the world. They practically owned a deed to the U.S. government. In their best days, there were no less than three Calvert family senators, seven members of the house, and two governors. They even had a top candidate for president, until that scandal with the dog forced him to drop out of the race. I was particularly proud of that one."

Charon and Leah exchanged a glance: his challenging, and hers a bit revolted. That was one curiosity even _she_ wasn't willing to touch.

"He's my old rival. Centuries, we've played this game. I knew he'd be stupid enough to hide here. It's not a matter of hate, it's a matter of destiny. He is my enemy, and I do not suffer any bastard who opposes me to live. It is my intent to find him, and call down a _righteous fucking hammer_ on his head. Figuratively, I mean. His head."

"Ha!" Leah burst out with a grin. "I made a head joke, too, while I was down there. He was pretty pissed," she informed Charon proudly. "Actually, I told him, 'Don't move a muscle.' Hilarious, right?"

Charon sighed and rubbed his temples.

Desmond actually let out a dark chuckle, crossing his arms across his chest. "She's got promise, this smoothskin. Keep her around, old acquaintance. I get the feeling she won't disappoint you. Especially after the body I saw last night." He turned on his heel and marched away, still laughing. "Go install that jammer and come back. I'll be watching and turn it on from here."

Charon took Leah's hand and they left Calvert Manor, stepping out into the brisk, foggy Point Lookout morning. The trip back to the boardwalk was a rather uneventful one. They came across a small group of smugglers that Leah managed to take out on her own, using Charon's shotgun. ("Can I use it just this once? I'm the one that got it for you!") She was nearly blasted back from the force of its kick, something that did not escape Charon's notice—or amusement. She'd handed the gun back with not a little bit of grumbling and hits to her pride involved.

The soft sound of their footsteps in the moist dirt gave way to the clanking of their boots on the old wood of the boardwalk. Charon let Leah prattle on about this or that, replying with a smile whenever she said something particularly ridiculous—or spouted out one of her occasionally profound insights that still caught him off-guard, even three years after they'd been together.

"What do you think Desmond is going to do after he kills all of his . . . rivals?" she asked quietly, looking up at him with blue eyes that were almost sad.

Charon shrugged, scratching an itch on the back of his neck. "I do not know, smoothskin. That is his problem, isn't it?"

"I just think it's a little heartbreaking, is all. I mean, the guy has spent his entire life fighting other old guys and once they're all dead, what will he have to do?"

"Who knows? This is his game, I say let him play it."

"I never suggested we _talk_ to him about it. The guy's not exactly the most amicable – _gah!_" She dropped suddenly onto her knees, clutching the sides of her face.

"_It is I, Professor Calvert! Don't bother looking around, I am in your mind!"_

"Leah?"

"What . . . the . . . _fuck_?" she cried out, clutching at her temples.

"What is it? Tell me, Leah!" he ordered furiously, dropping down beside her.

"I – his voice, that _Calvert_ voice, it's in my brain! They must have put something in my _brain_!" she shrieked in horror.

Charon stared at her in completely devastation. Somebody was hurting his smoothskin and there was nothing he could do about it.

Leah grimaced, filled with apprehension. "Let's get this jammer up there so we can _shut him up_," she growled, getting back to her feet. She took off at a faster pace toward the Ferris wheel, jumpy with nerves. When his voice broke out in her head again, she yelled and broke out into a run.

_But aren't you Desmond's faithful little helper? Coming to gum up my work, are we? Well, I have a better idea. How about instead of playing his game you destroy that nasty little device?_

"NO, you sniveling, rotten brain, _no!_ Get the fuck out of my head!" she shrieked, sprinting up the ramp toward the Ferris wheel. Charon was right behind her and started to install the device onto the bottom car as Leah worked on a power grid to the side. With shaking hands, she attacked the right wires into the right places, drawing on her previous knowledge and confidence with electronics.

"It's on!" Charon said gruffly, hoping to God that this jammer worked and the bastard would leave his smoothskin alone.

"Almost . . . _done!_" Leah cried, slamming the power button with her fist. With a groan and squeal of protest, the Ferris wheeled jerked to life. It rotated slowly—too slowly—up to the top. Finally the bottom car had become the top car and Leah shot the power grid with her rifle to trap it there.

"_You fool! What have – . . . done_!_" _Calvert's voice screamed in her head, making her sob and collapse to her knees in frantic desperation, scratching at her scalp, anything to _make it stop!_

"_No one betrays me, do yo – . . . . – stand?"_

"Leah? God damn it!" Charon shouted, standing in front of her as tribals came running down the long boardwalk toward them. He grabbed her rifle from her and gunned them down, one by one, as they approached.

"_You and – . . . – ghoul will both – . . . !"_

Leah tried to focus past the cold ice that had frozen over her mind. Slowly, she regained consciousness and the sound of gunshots broke through the haze of pain. She sat up with a gasp to see Charon standing above her, her rifle in one hand and his shotgun in the other. It was hard, at that very moment, to feel anything but admiration for the ghoul because she had never, in her twenty-two years, seen _anybody_ double wield weapons as big as those – and, even in the inappropriate circumstances, she found it completely and one-hundred-percent _sexy_.

Apprehension and concern for their lives quickly caught up, though, and Leah grabbed out her Victory Rifle. She planted it onto the railing beside Charon and sniped the few tribals that had managed to climb up to the rooftops of the booths. Charon quickly took out the last ones on foot and then fell back once the remaining bodies had fallen. He looked at her, breathing hard, a tired smile gracing his lips. "Please, no more having your skull cut open and taken over by a maniac brain. Does that sound all right to you, my smoothskin?"

Leah answered by jumping onto him and kissing him so hard that they both winced as their lips hit the hard surface of their teeth. "God _damn_, you are amazing," she gasped in pure awe.

He chuckled, handing her the rifle back. "I certainly try. Especially when my smoothskin's life is on the line. Funnily enough, that is when the most amazing feats come out. I cannot imagine it is because I love you or anything," he teased, grabbing her hand. "Is the voice gone, Leah?"

"It is," she promised, looking relieved. "Let's get back to Desmond. Lord only knows he's coming in his pants right this second."

Charon let out a bark of laughter and they set off once again for the old manor.

* * *

The explosion rivaled that of any others either of them had witnessed. The blast was strong enough to send them both flying back onto the ground, heat licking greedily at their bodies and threatening to burn them alive. Charon did his best to shield her, but the fire proved ultimately harmless and he ended up crushing her beneath his weight.

"Smoothskin!" he gasped, sitting up at once.

Leah groaned, but sat up unharmed. "Don't worry, I'm fine. Thanks for covering me."

"Of course!" He had to nearly yell to be heard over the sound of debris falling back to the ground and fire eating through the old wood of the had-been manor. He helped her up to her feet, brushing rubble and debris from her armor, both of them coughing past the thick fog of dust. They turned and stared at the aftermath of the explosion that had once been Calvert Manor. Leah felt as though she had been punched in the stomach, like she was going to be sick.

"Desmond –," she moaned. "Oh, God, Desmond."

Charon pulled her close, feeling a little empty himself. Despite any previous hatred he'd felt toward the old ghoul, he hadn't actually expected him to ever _die_. It just seemed impossible. "We should find his body," he suggested after a long silence. "He wouldn't want to be left in a . . . in a . . ."

"In a _sodding mud-hole_ like this?" Leah asked, doing her best impression of a raspy, British accent and failing – miserably.

Charon did her the favor of not mentioning it. "Right."

They set about tramping carefully through the wreckage, pulling up fallen boards and tiptoeing around broken glass. Leah tripped over the burning skeleton of an old chair, falling onto her knees and nearly braining herself on the metal cover to some sort of panic room.

_A panic room!_

"CHARON!" she cried excitedly, grabbing at the small, circular door. Charon came sprinting over and immediately helped her to pull it off – it came loose at once under his strength. Leah dropped down into the small, dusky room, Charon right behind her.

"I can't fucking believe it!" Desmond Lockheart's voice boomed at them, making them both grimace in both surprise and maybe a tiny bit of disappointment. The mustached Brit was absolutely trembling in fury. "That bastard killed my _pups!_ Almost killed _ME_. And for what? Because he doesn't have the _fucking body_ to do it himself and he tries to _blow ME_ up? This ends today!" he screamed at them. "You are coming with me! I know where he is. . . ." he growled, shaking his head. "I found his location when he boosted his signal to try to get past my jammer, the cocky, over-handed bastard. Hiding under my nose the whole time. Let's go," he ordered fiercely, passing them and climbing back up the ladder to the surface.

Charon and Leah exchanged a wary glance. "He _did_ try to kill us," Charon reasoned.

"Yeah, and he tried to take over my brain," she agreed dryly. "We'd better go with him, just to make sure he doesn't almost die again."

"All right. Ladies first." Charon helped boost Leah up the ladder before hopping back up to the surface himself. Desmond was already halfway down the hill, marching determinedly toward the lighthouse with sniper rifle in hand. It was almost humorous, watching him, and Leah let out a little giggle.

"Are you all right, smoothskin? You didn't hit your head from the blast, or anything?"

"Maybe I did. This place is making me loopy. After this, we are going _home_," she decided with a shake of her head. They eagerly climbed the wet shoreline to the lighthouse, their energy renewed at the thought of returning to the mainland and leaving this gray and lifeless place. The trio stepped into the lighthouse. Charon and Leah looked up past the spirals of stairs, amazed at how tall the structure was.

Desmond was having none of it, though, as he hit a nearly-hidden button on the wall. "Pay attention, you two, it's just a sodding lighthouse. We have a _brain infestation_ we have to take care of."

"You know, this could have been such a romantic date location," Charon said conversationally, in small part because he meant it, but mostly to piss Desmond off.

"I think you're right," Leah agreed with a crooked smile, playing along. "I bet the view from the top is spectacular. I would've loved to have seen it with you."

"I am not averse to the idea of hitting a woman, I'm really not," Desmond growled threateningly. Part of the metal floor beneath them gave way to expose a dark set of stairs leading downward. "Let's go, before I vomit from the idea of you two snogging."

"Why? You've already seen worse," Charon teased. Leah erupted into peals of delicate laughter that echoed both upward and downward through both staircases.

"Shut up your mockery before Calvert realizes we're here," Desmond snapped. The other two fell into line behind him and the three of them descended the stairs together. Lockheart was tense enough to harden the atmosphere around him, but Leah and Charon were quite at ease. It was just another day in the life for them, really, but to Lockheart it was the culmination of centuries' worth of work. The zeal and determination in his eyes were unmistakable. Finally, after tens of staircases, when Leah was even a little bit out of breath despite the fantastic shape she kept herself in, they reached a round room with a pillar in the middle of it. On the opposite wall was a terminal beside a door. Two turrets loomed ominously above them.

"You two take care of those," Leah delegated, lazily approaching the terminal. "I've got this door."

"Do you always let this bird boss you around?" Desmond snarked impatiently.

Charon chuckled conspiratorially. "Only when I'm in a good mood. Sometimes . . . I make her pay for it."

"Ha! You know, you're not so bad, kid," Desmond approved with a bark of laughter.

Leah's cheeks burned as she typed away at the terminal, but she was happy they were getting along well. She tuned out the clatter of gunshots tinging loudly against metal while she worked. The clamor eventually echoed and faded into silence, leaving only the sound of her fingertips working fiercely on keys.

"Clutters . . . clinging . . . _clanging!_" she cried in triumph, slapping one last key to open the door. It swung away to expose yet another hallway and Desmond was already off down it.

Leah scowled, feeling insignificant.

"You've done a great job, smoothskin," Charon assured her, hiding a smile.

"Don't you patronize me, Charon, I swear to God," Leah threatened and he fell silent, biting his lip to hold back laughter. They caught up with the other ghoul, who had already battled his way single-handedly through two RoboBrains, and helped him fight past one more, along with two Protectrons. They reached a second round room and got past it in the same fashion as the first.

Finally, they reached one last wide, round room. In the middle was a long tube, filled with blue liquid and a brain, connected to which were many long wires. Surrounding the tube in the middle were three platforms, at the end of them countless Protectrons. The robots all hummed to life the second the trio entered the room. The doors shut closed behind them, trapping them in.

"Come here, girl!" Calvert's voice barked. Leah stepped forward at once, after ensuring that the two ghouls could handle a few robots.

"What the fuck do you want?" she demanded.

"How _dare_ you violate my inner sanctum!" Calvert roared at her.

"And how _dare_ you have people root around in my head! I know you're missing a body and all, but it's not fair to pick on people more fortunate than you!" she screamed, silencing everybody in the room—robots included. She tapped his glass with the butt of her rifle, certain that it bothered him as his brain trembled within. "Now you have had more than enough time to fulfill your life's dreams and you _wasted _it—wasted it chasing after some ghoul. You're a brain, Calvert, _a brain_. What did you hope to accomplish? Killing his two puppies? That's _sick_. Fucking _sick!_" Her voice rang around the tiled room, harsh with rage.

"She has this . . . animal thing!" Charon explained to the other ghoul as the robots began attacking them once more. "Doesn't like it when people abuse animals!"

Desmond shook his head with a cackle of laughter. "Crazy bird, yours!"

"You're fucking right, I don't like it!" she barked at them over her shoulder, effectively silencing them. "And any rat bastard who thinks he can enter my brain, blow up my friend's dogs, and get away with it is _out of his mind!_" She glanced behind her at the two ghouls. "I _said_, he is _out of his_ –,"

"We get it, smoothskin, just kill him already!" Charon called, blasting the head off another RoboBrain.

Leah turned back to Calvert, annoyed. Nobody appreciated fine humor anymore. "I'm going to kill you, and then I am going to make Tobar the Ferryman wish he was never born. Say farewell, Calvert. Your long life has come to an end." She swung and bashed the butt of her rifle into the glass tube. It took a few repeated hits—this glass was _thick_—but eventually the tube shattered and Calvert's brain was sent cascading down past the platforms to the bottom of the room. Leah barely jumped out of the way in time to avoid whatever viscous, blue liquid he had been keeping his brain it, as that, too, hit the ground with a loud, disgusting _splat!_

The booming collective clatter of metal hitting metal resounded around them as the robots all collapsed. Leah crossed back over the platform and into her waiting ghoul's arms.

Desmond's eyes were hidden behind the glare of artificial lighting on his glasses, but if the vibrations of laughter in his chest were any indication, he was mighty pleased with their work. "Yes!" he roared in triumph. "The world is free of that sniveling, disgusting, arrogant brain! Everything he has ever learned! Everything he had! It's here and it's all MINE! FUCKING MINE!" he yelled in victory.

"Didn't I tell you he'd come in his pants?" Leah asked Charon with a smirk.

"Oh, shut your damning, chattering mouth," Desmond snapped, but there was no real feeling behind the insult—it was clear even to Leah that he'd grown fond of her. "As much as I am _really fucking loathe_ to admit it, I could not have gotten him this time without your collective help." He sneered, as if to drive home the point that he was reluctant to give thanks. "You may take any weapons or riches you find in this disgusting place. I want the information Calvert had stored here."

"Sounds good to me," Charon agreed.

"Will we ever see you again?" Leah asked, before she could stop herself. It was exactly the kind of whiny, childish question she knew would piss Desmond off.

But he hesitated the tiniest bit before scowling at her. "I can _hardly_ say that I enjoy your company, you insolent smoothskin, nor that of your boring ghoul, but I do owe you one and I suppose that warrants future interaction between us." He thought for a moment, stroking his chin, always so dignified. "I'll be travelling north to pursue my next rival. But if I ever come back down this way, I suppose seeing you two wouldn't _kill me_. Though I suppose I also wouldn't be surprised if somehow it did."

Leah couldn't help laughing. "So you're saying, you might come see us, but you won't like it?"

"Definitely won't like it. Now get out of my sight. I have a lot of work to do." He shooed them out with one last wave of his hand, turning to one of the nearest machines in interest.

Charon took Leah's hand they turned to the last available door. It slid open and Leah's eyes glittered. She looked like a kid in a candy shop as she scooped microfusion and energy cells into their bag. She inspected a toy-like gun on a workbench. "What _is_ this, do you think?" she asked excitedly.

"I don't know, smoothskin," Charon laughed. "But we can always find out. Don't shoot it in here!"

"I wasn't going to, you big mommy," she sighed with a roll of her eyes. "How dumb do you think I _am_?"

"Very," a gruff voice informed them from the next room. Leah scowled as Charon let out a laugh.

"Are you ready?" he asked, taking a step toward the ladder.

"Wait . . . just one second." She poked her head into the other room and stared at Desmond's broad back. "Desmond?"

He half-turned, his expression impatient. "What is it _now_? Did you not hear me say that I have _work_ to do?" he demanded irritably.

She smiled, ignoring his surliness. "Thank you."

Leah could have sworn that she saw his face soften the tiniest bit. Then again, her brain had very recently been cut open, so all credibility went out the window at once. "Back to business," the British ghoul simply declared.

Leah and Charon clambered back to the surface. Their spoils tucked safely away in their bag, content with the knowledge that they had helped two people on this trip, they began the long walk back to the shore. The flame-haired Nadine was smoking a cigarette as she waited for them, leaning against the ferry.

"Hey, friend! We havin' fun yet?" she asked Leah in her normal cheeriness. Her dark eyes floated over Leah's shoulder and she took in Charon's tall form—with a bit more appreciation than Leah would have liked to see. "And who is _this_ hunk of muscle? Like to get a taste of him!"

Charon barely held back a laugh as he clamped a hand around Leah's shoulder to restrain her. "This 'hunk of muscle' is happily partnered," he answered in his most respectful tone, pulling Leah back against his chest.

"Shame," Nadine remarked with a shrug. She hitched a thumb over her shoulder. "I cornered Tobar about the whole 'cutting open my skull' thing. Locked him away in the engine room. I'm not so good at killing people, so I figured I'd let you take care of him."

Leah's jealous irritation disappeared at once as a slow smile crept over her face. "Nadine, that's the best damn idea I've ever heard in your life."

"May I assist you, my smoothskin?" Charon asked, his voice tight with anger.

"It's a date."

"And he's bloodthirsty, too?" Nadine sighed. "The good ones are _always_ taken. Let me know when you're done, girlfriend. I'll be ready to take us home at any time." She sashayed away, a trail of smoke following her as she went.

"Just when you think you've seen it all," Charon observed, bemused.

"She _is_ strange," Leah agreed, heading for the engine room.

"How do you want to do this, Leah?" he asked, assuming correctly that she'd thought it all out.

"Well, I _did_ have a plan that involved you holding him down while I cut _his_ skull open," she said with obvious fierce relish, "but then we got this cool new _toy_ from Desmond," she cooed.

"Why not do both?" he offered, in a tone one would use when choosing which meal to order at a restaurant.

"You indulge me," she teased, coyly smacking his shoulder.

"Only the best for my smoothskin." He yanked the engine room door open and gestured for her to walk in.

Leah swayed her way into the room, peering through the dim, dusty light to see Tobar slumped in a small chair, his arms tied behind the back of it. He glared up at her. "Please, untie me, my friends! That crazy redhead bitch tied me up! She said I cut into her brain!"

Charon and Leah took a look around and saw many shelves, all of them lined with small, colorless lumps floating in viscous liquid.

"Are you insane?" Leah demanded, gesturing around at them. "These are bits of brain you took out of people! You're crazy to think we would believe you!"

"It was worth a try, you spiteful bitch!" Tobar roared, kicking a leg out at her. Charon grabbed his foot quicker than bolt of lightning and broke the bones in his shin in another blindingly fast movement.

Tobar's scream of pain was music to Leah's ear as she tipped the chair backward. His back hit the floorboards and he sobbed as his head cracked against the wood there. Leah quickly unbuckled Tobar's belt and tossed it over her shoulder to Charon, who used it to restrain Tobar's legs, ignoring his shrieks of agony when he jostled the now broken one.

Leah sat on Tobar's stomach with extra force, smiling when the wind was knocked out of him, and pulled her combat knife out of her sheath. She held it up so it glinted in the dull lighting. "You know, I'm almost impressed with the job you did on my head, Tobar," she said conversationally, her expression peaceful despite the violent scene. "The scar is really quite small for such an operation. A professional job." She dropped her gaze to his and savored the fear she saw there. "I'm afraid I won't be able to match it, but I promise I'll do my best." With no further ado, she gripped a handful of his hair, jerked his head downward, and pressed the tip of her blade to his skull. Before the idea of torturing another human being could really sink in, she forced the knife downward and then jerked it toward her, breaking skin, watching the bright red of fresh blood drip down onto the floorboards. Tobar's screams fell on deaf ears as Leah created a scar on his skull identical to her own and Charon watched on in satisfaction. When she was content, Leah climbed back to her feet and ruffled through their bag for her new gun. Charon stepped downward on one of the chair's legs to push Tobar back up into a sitting position and moved aside again. As much as he wanted to kill Tobar, it was Leah's brain he had cut into—and Leah's revenge to be sought.

She pointed the round gun at him, smiling to herself. "You know, _I_ don't even know what this gun does yet. Thrilling, isn't it?" She laughed. "I guess we'll find out together, Tobar, won't we?"

The ferryman sobbed, eyes rolling back into his head. Leah aimed, murmured a quiet prayer, and pulled the trigger.

Rings of bright blue light flashed out of the gun and encapsulated Tobar's face. The ferryman's head exploded at once into a burst of blood and brain matter, splattering the wall behind him in bright red. Charon and Leah both cried out and jumped away, the new gun clattering to the floorboards. They then jumped again, expecting it to go off and obliterate them, but it remained motionless on the ground. The couple looked at each other, both of them breathing hard in the quick burst of fear.

Leah was the first to laugh, as always, but Charon was right behind her. The sound of her giggles were almost maniacal, and his laughter died as he realized her chuckles were fading into sobs. He pulled her close, kissing her temple. "Not as great as you expected, my smoothskin?" he murmured in sympathy.

"Just . . . get me home," she sighed through a heave. He toted her out of the engine room, but not before she could swipe up one of the jars on the table. He led her back toward the room they'd stayed in on their trip to Point Lookout.

Nadine poked her head down from the upper level, looking curious. "You kill the bastard?" she asked curiously, not even bothering to hide her ogling of his backside.

Charon sighed, fidgeting awkwardly. "Yes, the bastard is dead. Would you mind taking us home?"

"You got it, handsome." She winked and retreated back toward the helm.

Leah sighed and lowered herself onto the couch, clutching the jar close to her. She looked up at Charon sat down beside her. "You know, I feel a t-terrible sense of loss," she admitted quietly, wiping her eyes free of tears.

Charon cuddled her to his chest, murmuring soothingly, "At least you have it back now . . . right? I have to confess, I am not quite sure how to comfort people in general, and I've definitely never had to do so when they lost a piece of brain. . . ."

Leah snorted in laughter past her tears. "You're right, it _is_ strange."

"For what it is worth, smoothskin, I am proud of you," he whispered gently into her ear. "What you did was the right thing."

"I couldn't handle it, though," she hiccupped bitterly, setting down the jar to throw her arms around him. "I feel sick after doing that."

"You are human, Leah, and a good person. It's what I love about you. If you had not regretted it, I would have been worried."

"Being human feels _great_," she muttered dryly. Charon smiled sadly and laced their fingers together.

"I never said that it would, but being human isn't easy. Many are cursed to such a fate, and only few succeed." He kissed her forehead, breath warm against her skin. "Is it not surprising that you are perfect at it?"

"A little bit, yeah. But I learn from the best." She smiled when he scowled. He'd have to get over the fact that he was human, too, some day. It made her happy to realize that they had all the time in the world. He ducked his forehead against hers and they sat entangled like that for an interminable amount of time, in a ferry rocking slowly across choppy water. They had time and they had each other and that was all they needed.

* * *

**Whew! If you managed to read all that in one go, congrats! That was one of my longest chapters yet (may even be the longest, but I'm too lazy to go and check). The whole "romantic-date" comment may or may not have been a reference to _For Good Or Ill_... I guess you could call it an homage. I couldn't help myself, Pattyn. The whole "My God, you are so beautiful" line made me giggle in excitement and want to cry at the same time the first time I read it. I can't say thank you enough for everything you've done. /kowtows in gratitude**

**As always, ManInAMask01 and DaLover, thank you for your numerous reviews! You guys are great! And thank you to everyone for reading!**


	9. The Snow Is A Lie

Leah stepped out onto the docks with a wide grin, a confederate hat shading her eyes, and a merc charmer outfit clinging quite nicely to her curves. Charon chuckled as he took his place beside her. She'd ranted that if she couldn't have her hair back, she'd just have to emphasize the other parts of her that were beautiful.

He had insisted vehemently that every part of her was beautiful all the time and rampant lovemaking had ensued. She took his hand and they moved out of the way so that Nadine could sprint past them and throw her arms around her already sobbing mother.

"Mama," she sighed, hugging her tightly. "I missed you!"

"Nade," Catherine cooed, kissing her forehead. "I'm so glad to see you're okay." She looked up at Charon and Leah with a smile. "Thank you. Now that Nadine has this boat, I can properly pay you." She started to shell out caps, but Leah gently pushed her hand away.

"Honestly, we don't need the money," she laughed. "You keep it. You two deserve it. It was our pleasure." She was just turning to wink at Charon when her Pip-Boy let out a loud squeal, followed by the rumble of white noise.

"Jesus," Leah mumbled in embarrassment, tapping at the screen. A loud, stern voice broke out into the open air.

"_This is Defender Morrill, any Outcasts listening on this frequency report to sector 7-B, Bailey's Crossroads. This is a high-priority message – backup is needed at our location. Any personnel listening on this frequency please report at once_."

Leah and Charon shared a glance.

"Are you sure you don't want to take a day or two to rest, smoothskin?" he teased, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

"Ain't no rest for the wicked," she sang cheerily, entering the coordinates into her Pip-Boy. "We're not far from their location. You up for a little Outcast action, baby?"

Charon rolled his eyes. "If we must."

She kissed his chin. "I love your enthusiasm for our work."

"What can I say? There is nothing I love more than aiding others for no reward other than the warm feeling in my heart."

Leah let out a trill of laughter and the two set off, hand-in-hand, into the burning afternoon Wasteland. Mother and daughter watched them go, exchanging a curious look, because if anything was certain, it was that they would never meet anyone like those two again.

* * *

Charon and Leah approached the broken escalator, dust-beaten and tired from the walk.

"You know, I almost miss the fog. At least it kept us cool," she remarked through a cough.

"Here," he offered, handing her a bottle of purified water. "I think I would have to agree."

The sound of gunshots up ahead had them both instantly tense. Leah opted to pour the water over her head instead of wasting the time to take a drink and threw the bottle away, pulling her rifle out. She fixed her new hat into place and grinned at her ghoul, who smiled eagerly back. God, she loved that smile. It just screamed, "I am about to fuck some shit up."

They dashed up the rest of the stairs and broke out into a small square. Four men in red power armor were surrounding two super mutants in the middle of the square and Leah and Charon set to work. He grabbed a frag grenade from their bag while Leah began shooting the mutants with her rifle. The explosion from his grenade sent the mutants flying away, giving the Outcasts and Leah the opportunity to wipe them out.

"Protect the base at all costs!" one of the men shouted, pointing his fellow soldiers over a thin pathway into a broken-down building on their left. The Outcasts filed in that direction and Charon and Leah fell into place behind them. She was positively grinning in excitement, the crazy broad. Charon couldn't help laughing at her expression.

The Outcasts took their sweet time organizing themselves into some sort of formation. Leah rolled her eyes and pushed past them, rifle in hand, to gun down the first mutant with ease. She kicked his body out of the way and leapt down onto the story below them, Charon taking out another mutant as he followed. They managed to kill more mutants than the four Outcasts combined by the time they left the remains of the old building. Leah whooped and did a victory dance while Charon reloaded his shotgun, smiling fondly.

"All right, _local_," the man who was obviously in charge demanding, stopping Leah short in her victory jig. "Do you mind explaining what the hell you're doing here?"

She spun on him with fire in her eyes. "Do you mind _not calling me that_, you thick-headed prick?" she snapped, poking his power armor aggressively, probably spraining her finger in the process. "And I came because of your stupid radio signal, thinking I could lend a hand. Looks like my friend and I took down more mutants than you and your four power-armored buddies did back there, so you can lose the attitude."

Charon had a hard time holding back laughter, and wished more than anything that the man's expression wasn't hidden behind his helmet. He would have paid money to see the look on his face.

"Is that Vault Girl?" a familiar voice called, making all of them turn. They were standing at the edge of a ramp and walking up the slope was a dark-haired man with a crooked grin. "Still got that spunk, don't you?"

"Rockfowl!" Leah cried, pushing past the man in power armor and sprinting down the ramp to give her old friend a hug.

"Jesus, Leah, you're gonna knock me over," he grunted, hugging her back. "These two are all right, Morrill, you can back off," he called to the other man sternly.

"How the hell did they hear my signal? It was broadcasted on a secure signal," Morrill shot back angrily, evidently not enjoying being put in his place by a small girl.

"It's that Pip-whatever of hers," Rockfowl said, nodding at the device on Leah's arm as she stepped back beside her none-too-happy ghoul. "Picks up everything. Come on, Vault Girl, let's go inside. You can bring your ghoul with you if you like."

Leah grinned, taking Charon's hand. She could nearly hear Morrill sizzling with anger inside of his armor. "That guy always an asshole?" she asked under her breath as they approached a large, red elevator.

"Oh, pretty much every Outcast is an asshole. Comes with the power armor, I'm afraid," Rockfowl said sarcastically, scratching the back of his head. "It's good to see you. It's been a while. Still got the old ball and chain, I see." He grinned.

Charon grumbled and Leah laughed. "Never leave home without him."

"Yeah, well, lucky him," Rockfowl sighed. He gave her a once-over as he pressed a button to open the elevator doors. "You look . . . good. Real good." His eyes settled on her hat and he frowned the tiniest bit. "What happened to your –,"

Charon gave him a jerk of his head over Leah's shoulder, sneering threateningly.

"My what?" Leah asked cheerily, stepping into the elevator.

"Your, er, power armor," Rockfowl finished, gathering from the ghoul's warning that her haircut had not been an elected decision.

Leah exhaled hotly. "Pfft. Wrecked when those mutants attacked me at Underworld. You remember that, right?"

Rockfowl chuckled. "Of course I do. Never met a girl who could take on six muties and survive. It's not something you forget, Vault Girl." He cocked an eyebrow. "It's a shame about the power armor. That shit's expensive. Not saying I don't mind the change of outfit, though." He shot her a wink.

Charon growled and Leah rolled her eyes, squeezing his hand. "I lost my hair because some asshole cut my skull open." She pulled her confederate hat off and showed him the scar on her scalp. "Pretty crazy, huh?"

"Jesus, Leah," Rockfowl gasped, inspecting the long, arching scar. "Are you okay?"

"Never better. Well, I'd like my hair back," she grunted, stuffing her hat back onto her head, "but until then I'd like to assert my femininity in other ways. Hence the slutty outfit." The elevator doors opened with a ding and Leah strode out, hips swaying as she walked.

Charon and Rockfowl exchanged a knowing glance. "I can't tell who's luckier: you for having her, or me for not," the Outcast muttered grudgingly.

The ghoul laughed darkly as a response. "And that is why I do, and you don't." He took off after his smoothskin, leaving the defender scowling once more. It had been three years, and yet within the first five minutes of seeing her, Rococo Rockfowl found himself falling for her all over again.

This was going to be _great_.

* * *

Leah strolled through a white-washed hallway, peering curiously into open doors at the soldiers in power-armor or scribe robes within, taking in the sights and memorizing them for future thought. She smiled as Charon caught up with her and took his hand. Finally they reached a large doorframe to their right.

"You," a firm voice called, drawing Leah's attention. "Get in here."

She stepped obediently into the wide room, eyeing the wall-to-wall shelving of electronics and scrap metal. At the end of the room stood an orange-haired man in power armor, who was studying her with a none-too-friendly eye. His stare zeroed in on her Pip-Boy and he sighed, as if in defeat.

"I'll be honest with you," he said as she approached, "I'd trust a local to shine my power armor, and even that's pushing it."

"God _damn_ it, I have _had_ it with that word," Leah spat. "If you want my help, you can take that cute little nickname and shove it up your own ass, because I am not going to help anyone who has the gall to keep insulting me!"

The man blinked, completely taken aback. Rockfowl stepped forward, touching her arm hesitantly. "Erm, Leah, this isn't just any Outcast. This is Protector McGraw. Might be best to keep your attitude on the back-burner for this one," he suggested quietly.

Protector McGraw waved him away with a glare. "Who do you think you are to come into my compound and boss me around, girl?" he demanded crisply.

Leah barked out a laugh. "I think I'm the only one you'll find who has what you need." She waved her Pip-Boy as emphasis. "If you're going to be a dick about all this, I can turn around and walk out and that will be it. But if you'd still like my assistance, you'll have to learn to be civil. That won't be too hard, will it? Not being an asshole to someone who _isn't_ an Outcast?"

McGraw stared at her for a long moment, and Leah had to admit, his gaze was really intimidating. But she held her ground and was shocked to see him eventually break out into a thin smile. "You're right. My men and I _have_ been assholes. I apologize. We've been under a bit of stress for the past few months. I'm hoping you'll be able to help us with that."

Leah shrugged her shoulders, soothing her ruffled feathers. "That sounds great. Tell me about it."

"Records indicate there's some high-value tech in this base, but we can't get to it. The armory is sealed by a blast door, and we can't get it open. We're pretty sure anyone who completes the facility's VR sim program will gain access, but it requires a certain interface. Like your Pip-Boy. I need you to go into the simulator and complete that program . . . which will unlock the armory. Do that, and you'll get a share of the gear."

"Simulation? Like a combat sim? That sounds . . . fun." The spark in Leah's eyes was unmistakable. Charon fidgeted uncomfortably behind her.

"Don't be so sure," McGraw countered. "It's the liberation of Anchorage, Alaska from Chinese Communists. A pretty significant event in American history, I'm told. We're talking front line, heavy combat – safety protocols disengaged. That means you die in the sim, your body goes into massive cardiac arrest. You're still listening, so I'm going to assume you're interested. But time's wasting. Sibley here can take you to the pod. Olin will get you briefed." McGraw gestured at a fierce-looking black man behind him.

"Leah, I do not like this," Charon hissed as they fell into line behind Sibley. "This sounds dangerous."

"I know it does, but I'll be fine," she whispered reassuringly. "I've done simulations before, remember? And that one had a psychotic little girl in it!"

"Um, really?" Rockfowl interjected, looking curious.

Leah grinned. "Yeah, she was actually an old German man holding my dad hostage. Crazy, right?"

Charon facepalmed as Rockfowl laughed. "Don't encourage her," he snapped at the Outcast, who fell silent. "Leah, please." He took her hands, forcing her to stop and look up at him. "I . . . after everything . . . I can't lose you to a simulation."

"Charon, you have to trust me," she murmured, touching his face. Neither of them noticed when Rockfowl turned and marched away, hands stuffed into his pockets. "I let you start the Purifier, even though it scared the living daylights out of me. You have to trust me to complete this sim."

"This is different," he insisted. "That was to save our lives. This is to do what? Help an old friend? Leah, please be realistic."

"I am, Charon," she promised. "This simulation will be nothing. Nothing at all. It'll be done with in a matter of minutes, I'll pop out, we'll grab our new toys, and then we'll find someplace to settle down and fuck like bunnies for hours and hours on end."

Charon sighed gruffly, but he seemed to be bending as he kissed her fingers. ". . . All right," he agreed, grudgingly. "But you must promise to be careful. If you go into cardiac arrest, I will be sorely, sorely upset. I can't die protecting you if you're inside of a simulation when you die."

"I'm sure you're the only one stubborn enough to find a way how," Leah laughed softly. She stood up on tiptoes and kissed him. "I promise you, it will be fine." They stepped into a room at the end of the hall. In the middle was a huge, egg-like pod, much like the ones leading to Tranquility Lane. A short-haired blonde woman in scribe robes looked up at them as they approached.

"_You're_ here to help?" she nearly demanded, looking Leah up and down with critical eyes. "Fine. Put this suit on, sit down, and I'll start up the simulation."

"What is it with Outcasts and that snarky attitude?" Leah fumed, putting her hands on her hips. "For people who need help, you guys _sure_ don't know how to express it."

Specialist Olin just stared at her as a response and shoved a white suit into her chest. "Just. Get. Dressed."

Leah glared back, but decided it wasn't worth another fight. She grumbled to herself as she began unbuttoning her blouse.

"Smoothskin!" Charon yelled, running to shield her body from view as her shirt dropped to the floor. Rockfowl's eyes widened to the size of saucers and it took every last ounce of self-control to look away. "Some modesty, please," her ghoul seethed.

Leah harrumphed, still angry at the specialist. "Sorry," she snapped, stepping behind the pod for privacy. Charon growled warningly at Rockfowl, who acquiesced and reluctantly left the room. The ghoul then turned to help his smoothskin undress. "I am already about to have a heart attack letting you do this simulation," he said in a strained voice, "would you please not push it by undressing in front of another man? Especially one who has a record of wanting to get into your pants?"

She sighed. "Sorry, Charon. It wasn't intentional. I just want to get this over with."

"It's all right." He held one of the suit's legs open for her and she dipped her foot into it. He rolled the material up her leg, pausing for just a moment to graze her thigh with his lips. When she gasped, he laughed against her skin. "Sorry. It wasn't intentional."

"You jerk," she muttered, a little out of breath. They managed to get the suit onto her and zip it all the way up. It was stiff from misuse, and clung to her body oddly in all the wrong places, but it fit nonetheless.

"Good," Olin snapped, pressing a few buttons on a keyboard in front of her. The egg-shaped pod opened with a hiss of compressed air and the sides slowly dropped away to expose a chair angled upward toward the ceiling. Charon helped Leah step up into the pod. She settled into the chair, her gut tightening in anxiety.

Judging by his drawn expression, Charon was feeling the same.

"Don't worry," she whispered with confidence she didn't feel. "It'll all be over with soon."

"It had better, or so help me I will find a way to go in there and get you."

She smiled, squeezing his hand as Olin prepared the simulation. "I love you."

He sighed. "As I love you. Remember, death is a better alternative to communism."

Leah snorted, and she was still laughing as she released Charon's hand. The sides were beginning to close up around her and she blew her ghoul a kiss. The pod closed above her, and she was thrown into darkness.

Burst of blue pixels flashed all around her, making her dizzy. They started darting around, faster and faster, until they all blurred into one bright light and Leah was blinded by its intensity. One last thought flashed through her mind before the darkness claimed her.

_If there is a psychotic girl in this one, I am going to flip my shit._

Everything went black.

* * *

"Hey. Hey! Wake up! Come on! Snap out of it!" a gruff voice snapped at her.

Leah sat up slowly, her entire body aching and cold. She realized very quickly, and with a smile of delight, that she had fallen into snow. She'd never seen snow before. When she looked up, she saw that a tall, dark-haired man was standing above her, frowning in concern.

"That was a hell of a nasty fall you took. When your 'chute bunched up like that? I thought you were a goner!" he said cheerily. "I hope the other guys made it." He was wearing some sort of white armor, obviously to make it harder to be seen traversing the snow-capped mountains they were currently on. "I don't think their patrols spotted us comin' in. So at least we still have the jump on 'em. You still have your gear, so I'm gonna let you make the call: we can go in quiet, or guns blazin'." He grinned at her. He had thick, arching brows and a pleasant smile. She liked him already. The insignia on his uniform indicated that he was a sergeant, and she addressed him as such.

"Yes, sergeant!"

He chuckled. "Just call me Benji, rookie. We'll still meet at the rendezvous spot inside the outpost, then we'll blow those artillery guns to hell. Just watch yourself. The Reds up here don't take prisoners. Good luck!" He took off for the cliff face and began climbing with impressive agility. Leah watched him for a few moments in admiration. The funny little bugger looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place where she'd seen him.

_Okay, Leah. Evaluate. Obviously our objective is to disable artillery guns, probably so back-up can come in. We're on mountain sides, so I need to be careful. Charon would be _so_ pissed if I died falling off a cliff in a simulation. Hell, I'd be pissed._ She checked her person and saw a blade tucked away into a sheath on her hip, a silenced 10mm pistol on the other. She grabbed the gun and enjoyed its familiar weight in her hands. She took a moment to look out over the edge of the crevice. Her foot stirred a few rocks, which toppled down the mountainside ominously. A lurch of unease went through her at the thought of slipping and she clutched her pistol tighter to her chest.

It was just all so _real_. Tranquility Lane had been one thing, but this simulation was top-notch. The bone-freezing cold bit at her skin and summoned blood beneath her cheeks, the wind whipped her hair back from her face, and the sound of her footsteps crunching through snow was just far, far too realistic. Unsettlingly so.

With a sigh, Leah grabbed her helmet where it lay in the snow and stuffed it onto her face. She found a Stealth Boy in one of her pockets and stuffed it away for future use. She crept along for quite a while, hugging the mountainside, careful to keep a sharp eye out for dark bodies among the white of snow and gray of rock.

She wished Charon could see this . . . this wintry wonderland. Sure, it was butt cold, and sure, she was fighting off Chinese communists, but it really was quite fantastic. She ran her fingers through a fistful of snow and couldn't help smiling. She'd have to make a snowman before she left. She'd always wanted to do that. She bet Benji would help. He seemed to be a goofball like her, simulation or not.

When she rounded the next bend, she found a small platform hanging off of the cliff face. A Chinese soldier was peering off of the edge, his back thankfully to her. She crouched, grabbing the Stealth Boy and quickly using it. She endured the familiar cold, dripping sensation as it took effect. Shaking off the cool feeling, she aimed her pistol, exhaled, and pulled the trigger.

There was the muffled sound of a gunshot, and the Chinese soldier collapsed. Once his body had become motionless, it dissolved into blue pixels and disappeared altogether.

Huh. Interesting.

Leah snuck up to a barricade on the edge of the platform. From this vantage point, she could see many catwalks and pipes connecting the mountains both above and below her. She could spot a few soldiers patrolling them, but with only her pistol there was little she could do about them.

So Leah pressed on, her gun at the ready. She came across a catwalk, taking out the Chinese patrol with a clean, quiet shot. She stole across the metal bridge and stopped once she'd reached the other side, listening hard. A staircase climbed up to a nearby ledge, upon which she could hear two Chinese soldiers conversing—about what was anyone's guess. Still invisible, Leah moved silently up the staircase. She shot the first soldier in the back of the head, killing him instantly, and loosed two more bullets into the second's chest, knocking him back off of the edge. He fell to his death and Leah smiled. Charon would be proud of her stealth and efficiency. On a box near the ledge lay a Chinese assault rifle, which she picked up with a coo of appreciation. It was good to have a _real_ gun again, stealth be damned. She didn't need to sneak if she had a real weapon and she was ready to fuck some shit up. The Stealth Boy wore off as she climbed another set of stairs and came out onto the edge of a long, white pipe. Two Chinese soldiers at the opposite end spotted her and came running. She gunned down the first with a wild trill of laughter. His body fell back into his comrade and they both toppled off of the pipe.

Leah gaped as she watched them fall. She'd be lying if she said this simulation wasn't really fucking fun. The catwalk that had once been above the pipe was broken, so she tripped carefully over the white metal to the half of the catwalk on the other side. She clambered up the metal bridge to another platform. There was a door nestled into the rock face and she gladly pushed it open. The cold was making her clumsy, numbing her fingertips.

The door led to a huge cavern with huge ledges, staircases connecting them. A Chinese soldier cried out at the sight of her and she cursed, having been distracted by the sheer size of the cavern. She gunned him down, but it was too late. He'd already alerted the others and they came filing down the staircases toward her. She grabbed a frag grenade from a nearby table and loosed it, realizing a little bit too late that it could bring the entire cave down.

"Shit!" she cried, running back toward the door. The explosion went off, killing the soldiers and shaking the entire cavern, but it remained luckily intact. She exhaled, pulling her helmet off and wiping the sweat from her forehead. She began the slow trek up the staircases, nearly tripping over a gun half-buried in snow. She knelt down and wiped the powder from the weapon.

"Well, hello, gorgeous," Leah cooed, pulling up the long, sniper-like weapon. "God, you're pretty." She stowed away her assault rifle and held the new gun in hand. "I hope there's a real version of you somewhere when I'm done with this thing."

The staircases led to a hallway. Her boots clicked loudly against the metal floor until she broke out into a wide room, lined with machinery on the walls. She stepped cautiously in, gun at the ready.

A Chinese soldier passed the opposite doorway and spotted her. He shouted and ran in, only to be kicked in the face by a body leaping down from the rafters. Benji swung forward, holding himself from the ceiling with one hand and using the other to gun down the soldier. The sergeant dropped down with a crooked grin as the Chinese disappeared.

"You certainly know how to make an entrance," Leah commented, thoroughly impressed.

"Just 'cause it's war, doesn't mean you can't have style," he replied, reloading his weapon. "This place is crawling with Reds. I almost didn't make it."

"Glad to see you made it in one piece."

"Yeah, I almost bought it out there on the cliffs. Didn't know the Reds were so handy with a sniper rifle."

"Well, you're about to find out that _I'm_ even handier," she bragged, brandishing her new weapon with a flourish.

"Sounds good, Rookie. We clear to blow the hell out of this place?"

"Hell yeah. See if you can keep up."

"No sweat. You're on point, Rookie."

Leah almost danced out of the doorway, she was so excited. They came out on a platform overlooking another ledge and a catwalk below. Two Chinese soldiers had their backs to them. Leah shot a wink at Benji. "Watch and learn." She lowered her eye to the scope on her new gun and took out the first soldier without two seconds' hesitation. A burst of bright light flew out of the gun and killed him. Leah was so impressed with the weapon she almost forgot to kill the second soldier, giving him enough time to turn around before she wiped him out as well.

"Not bad, Rookie," Benji admitted with a reluctant smile. "Where'd you find the Gauss rifle?"

Leah grinned. "Is that what it's called?"

He laughed. "You didn't know what it was called, but you can still kick ass with it? You're interesting, Rookie, I'll give you that. Come on, we've got artillery guns to take out."

They leapt down to the bottom ledge and across the catwalk. The end platform led to a white pipe, which Leah began walking down at once.

"We're crossing this pipe?" Benji asked in mild disbelief. "And here I thought I was the one with the death wish."

"Stick with me and I'll surprise you even more," Leah promised with a grin. They reached yet another platform, one that overlooked a large building. A small, igloo-like room was situated in front of the building. Leah took a look through her scope and cursed under her breath. "Commies in that little igloo thing."

"This is the artillery outpost," he explained in a whisper.

"Only a fool punches a deathclaw in the mouth. We should sneak around and pull its tail," she suggested excitedly.

Benji gave her a concerned look. "I don't know what a deathclaw is, but that sounds about right to me."

"Good. We passed a door a few seconds ago. Let's go back." They backtracked and, sure enough, found another red, metal door hidden in the cliff. Leah went through first and came out in a narrow hallway. They slid their way past boxes and terminals down the long, empty hall, up a staircase, and found another door. This one led to a platform much closer to the artillery post door, and at a much higher vantage point.

"Much better," Leah purred in approval, setting up her Gauss rifle. She zeroed in on one of the tiny windows in the igloo, waiting. The instant she saw a flash of skin, she pulled the trigger.

Her loud gunshot echoed around the open cliffs, followed by a chorus of shouts from the other Chinese soldiers. "I've got the ones in the igloo, you take out the guys up top!" she cried, referring to a ledge jutting out from the second level of the building.

"No problem, Rookie!" Benji assured her. His gunfire ensured he was getting the job done, so she focused on sniping the last two soldiers down below. It took a little bit longer, because they knew they were being scoped. Eventually, though, they had to wander out and Leah got them the instant they stepped foot outside. She sat up, her ears ringing with gunshots.

"Nice job," Benji sang, clapping her on the back.

"You're not so bad yourself. You ready to shake up this outpost?"

"Hell yeah! We'll send 'em all the way back to the Great Wall!"

Leah was still laughing as they came down the last of the steps to ground level. They waltzed into the outpost in good spirits. The inside looked much like a warehouse, with large crates of missiles and weapons dispensed here or there. The bottom of a staircase was hidden away in the far corner. Leah was just making her way there when she heard Benji holler, "Wake up! Ol' Benji's got somethin' for ya!"

She chuckled as she began climbing the steps among the sound of his rifle clattering away. He was a crazy sort of guy, but that was generally the type of person she kept in her life. As simulation characters went, his was surprisingly and pleasantly good-natured. It was better than getting some uptight captain who did everything by protocol. That just wasn't how she worked.

The walkways at the end of the staircase were both intricate and crawling with Reds. Leah pulled her assault rifle back out, stowing away her Gauss rifle, and let out a spray of bullets. A few of the soldiers managed to duck out of the way, but she took out at least half of them with her initial burst. She crouched down and moved around, keeping her head above the railing so she could spot when a Commie hopped up. Much in a whack-a-mole fashion, Leah took out the last of the stragglers. Benji was right behind her when she killed the last one.

"You work fast, Rookie! Maybe I should stop callin' you that."

"You can call me Leah," she introduced herself, realizing she'd never told him her name before.

"Cute name. My wife wanted to name our baby that, if we ever have a daughter," he remarked with a smile. "I miss her like hell."

Leah gave him a quirky grin back as they climbed up a ramp leading to the last room. "I left behind a . . . a husband as well." The word tasted better than she'd thought it would. "I can't wait to get back to him."

"Lucky guy, with a shot like you at his side," Benji complimented her. "All right, Rookie, heads in the game. Commies up ahead. I can _smell_ 'em."

Sure enough, they came across a handful of soldiers that were easy enough to take out. They were halfway through the end of the room when there was a booming explosion and the entire cavern began to shake.

"That'll be the artillery guns!" Benji explained in a shout as Leah grabbed for a table to steady herself. "We're close!"

"Let's go take 'em out!" Leah yelled back. They ran to the last door and burst out onto the clifftops once more. A thin path led to their right and an enormous cannon came into view. "Is that is? Wow," she breathed.

"Yep. There's two more of 'em, too."

"We're gonna need bigger guns."

"Ha! That's why I brought the explosives. One for each artillery gun."

Leah took the offered charge and snuck down to the power grid for the cannon. She set it to explode and ran back up the embankment toward Benji. Just as the soldiers in the base spotted her and started to grab their guns, the blast went off. The cannon exploded into several pieces, killing the men inside. Benji and Leah ducked to avoid a large metal plate that nearly skimmed their heads.

"Good job, Rookie! On to the next one!"

The second and third artillery guns were a little harder to destroy, as the explosion from the first had alerted the soldiers to their presence. It didn't make too much of a difference, really, just gave them a chance to kill more Chinese before charging the bombs. Either way, every Commie on that cliffside ended up dying, whether by bullet or explosion. Benji and Leah stood above the last, smoking artillery wreckage and high-fived.

"That's how you do it! Benji Montgomery style!" he whooped in triumph.

Leah's laugh froze halfway through her throat. _Benjamin Montgomery_. The math ran through her head at blinding speed as she calculated, _one generation, two generations,_ on and on, all the while her brain struggling to remember an image from her childhood: a picture, torn in one corner and faded with age, but clean and dustless from care. A dark-haired man, his arm slung around the waist of a pretty, blonde young woman with a round, smiling face. She was holding a baby, dark hair sprouting on the infant's head.

Her father's voice, ringing in her ears: _Your mother and I had a tough time coming up with a name beautiful enough for you, darling. So we went through our old family trees and found one belonging to your great-great-great grandmother. How does Leah sound, sweetheart?_

And then he'd held out the picture, pointing to the baby girl, and there had been an inscription scrawled on the bottom in elegant, lilting script.

_Benjamin, Mara, and Leah Montgomery. 2082._

Leah looked up at the man before her in complete shock. She couldn't help letting out a small, disbelieving giggle.

_I can't wait to tell Charon._

_

* * *

_

**As always, a great big thank you to all my darling reviewers! Pattyn, ManInAMask01, DaLover, you guys are really great. You make writing this fic even better than it already is, haha. Thanks for reading!**

**"Only a fool punches a nathak in the mouth. We should sneak around and grab its tail." - Urdnot Wrex, _Mass Effect_**


	10. Like Christmas Morning

Leah army-crawled over the snow-topped train car, Gauss rifle in hand. She propped it up over the end of the train, careful to make as little movement as possible. Swinging the gun back and forth, she spotted two enemy snipers and one Chinese launcher on a far ledge. She took them out with three swift shots. "Benji, watch out for that dog!" she called to the sergeant down below.

"Gah!" one of the snipers cried out as the animal knocked her down. Benji took it out with one shot from his rifle.

Ignoring the sharp pang at hearing the animal whimper (_It's fake, Leah, it's fake, don't lose it._) Leah jumped down beside them, feet sinking into snow. She helped the sniper up with a hand. "Believe it or not, snipers actually _can_ spend some time with their face away from the scope. Keep it in mind?"

"Yes, ma'am," the young girl said back with a hesitant smile.

"She's amazing," Leah heard her say as she turned away and started trekking forward. She smiled, touched. They may have all been simulations of real people, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't bonding with them. It was a mistake, one she would regret later and Charon would scold her for, but it kept her motivated. They proceeded through the abandoned mining town, almost losing a grenadier to one of the Chinese heavy weapons specialists—the fucker had a flamer. Luckily the grenadier knew how to stop-drop-and-fucking-roll, helping stop the fire in his clothing while Leah took out the Commie with the butt of her rifle to his helmet.

A frag grenade quickly took out three Crimson Dragoons stationed in front of the listening outpost. Leah cleared out the inside almost as fast, not without a little help from her loyal sergeant. She bumped him with a hip-check on their way out, flashing him a shit-eating grin. "You're one in a million, Benji."

"Right back at you . . . ma'am. I'll be tellin' my wife Mara about you when we all return home, safe and sound." Benjamin Montgomery beamed at her. "I think we'll definitely be naming our daughter Leah now."

Leah was glad her face was hidden behind her helmet, because tears were burning in her eyes. "I'll be proud to tell my husband about the brave Benji Montgomery." She turned to the rest of her men behind her. "All right, boys! Let's go clear that pulse field. I'd like to get back to H.Q. before the coffee gets cold!"

The U.S. soldiers let out a cry of excitement behind her and she smirked. She found herself sort of wishing she'd been there for the _real_ liberation of Anchorage, Alaska.

She could've taken the whole fucking war by storm.

* * *

Charon watched smoke linger in the air above his head, ignoring the glares he was receiving from Specialist Olin. He wanted a smoke and there was no chance he was leaving Leah's side until this whole ordeal was over with. Olin was a bitch anyways. How else was he supposed to relieve some of the stress he was feeling? McGraw was strung tighter than a bow and Rockfowl wouldn't stop his goddamned pacing. The room wasn't very large and his anxious pattering certainly didn't make for a peaceful environment.

He growled as Rockfowl completed yet another circle around the pod and held out the small box in his pocket. "Have a cigarette and calm the fuck down. Before I tie you to something."

Rockfowl hesitated for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to be angry. Eventually he settled on heeding his advice and took a cigarette. He slumped down beside the ghoul with an exhausted sigh. "I'm waiting for that asshole Sibley to try something," he admitted gruffly, lighting his cigarette.

Charon cocked the remains of an eyebrow at him. "Try what?"

The Defender shrugged noncommittally. "Not sure yet. But he doesn't like the way McGraw runs things here. And anything he says, the other Outcasts will back up. Frankly, the Protector is lucky Casdin stationed me here. He'd be fucked without me whenever these idiots decide to take action."

"I don't like the sound of that," Charon rumbled, glancing up at his smoothskin's sleeping face within the pod in concern. A smile flittered over her face and he was glad at least _she_ was having fun. Probably making friends with imaginary people that she would miss when she returned to the real world. "How soon?"

"Most likely after Vault Girl's done with her video game. It wouldn't make sense to stir things up before getting the tech in the armory becomes a sure thing." Rockfowl sighed roughly. "Thanks for the smoke. My life's been going down the drain the past few months."

"Cry me a river," Charon grunted. He pulled Leah's bag toward him and began ruffling through it, more to look for something to do than with an actual purpose in mind.

"You're a real softie, you know that?" He peered at what Charon was holding. "What's that?"

Charon pulled out a long bit of twine, several grenade pins collected at the end. He smiled fondly. "Leah's necklace."

"Are those grenade pins?"

He chuckled. "Of course. What else would she wear as jewelry?" He set the necklace down in front of his crossed legs and began patting down his pockets. Even during battle, he always remembered to stow his pins away for later. It had become something of a relaxing routine of theirs, to settle down after a fight and collect the grenade pins onto her necklace. She must've forgotten to put it back on after the last time. He managed to find four grenade pins and set about untying the thin string to add them with the others.

"So you and her have been together this whole time? Three years?" Rockfowl asked, careful to keep his voice casual.

Charon nodded, brow furrowing in frustration. His fingers were just a little bit too big to work the small knot.

"The entire time? God damn. That's a long fuckin' time." Rockfowl leaned back against the wall, exhaling smoke.

"We've had a break or two," Charon said quietly. He resorted to simply tearing the twine apart, careful not to completely destroy it under his strength. He threaded the pins through with ease after that, where they landed against the others with light, pleasant _ping_ noises. "Like after her father's death."

"Her old man died?" Rockfowl looked up at Vault Girl with sad respect. "That's too bad."

"It was. Especially when I had to drag her away as he died."

"Ah. She get pissed and run away?"

"Exactly."

Rockfowl frowned, fiddling absentmindedly the strap of his belt. "I may not have known her long, but I could tell she's real steadfast. Strong, and strong in her morals. I can see how that would upset her."

"Upset her for six weeks," Charon muttered curtly, tying the two ends of string back together. He suspended the necklace before him and held the pins in his hand with a smile. "But I found her again. Hardest six weeks of my life, I'll tell you that."

"Huh." The Defender looked away.

Charon cast a sidelong glance at him. "Hating me more now?"

"Oh, yeah."

He snorted.

"I just don't get it."

"What, how perfect she is, or why she is with me?"

"Both. Either."

"That makes two of us, then."

* * *

"Wait, go back! No –!"

The man in T-51B armor groaned and tore his helmet off, but it was too late. He collapsed to his knees in the snow, the electric pulse field shocking through his body and electrocuting him within his armor. He dropped into the snow, lifeless.

"Damn it!" Leah cried, picking up the pace. She'd been grazed in her right calf, which slowed her down considerably. Her boots were sinking into the snow, making her legs burn with the effort of dragging herself forward. Explosions went off all around. The ground quaked beneath her feet. She just needed to _get to the control room!_

"I'm here, Rookie!" Benji shouted, running up beside her. He threw one of her arms over his shoulders, taking the weight off of her right leg. Together they made it to the control room. Benji covered the door while Leah flipped the switch at the far end. The loud whirring of the pulse field died away as the barriers dropped. There was an outcry of victory from the U.S. soldiers as they stormed the snow-covered field.

"Good work, Leah," Benji sighed, rubbing sweat from his forehead.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Benji." She limped to a health dispenser in the corner and sighed in relief when the wound in her leg knitted back together. She was all systems go. "Let's go _fuck up some Commies!_"

Benji let out a belly laugh and together they sprinted across the field. Leah pulled out her combat shotgun and they burst into the Chinese base.

Chinese and U.S. soldiers were in combat all around them. Benji took off after a Commie toward the back of the battlefield, leaving Leah face-to-face with General Jingwei. The General had a U.S. soldier blinded and bound in front of him. With a shout of rage, he sank his sword into the man, who cried out before falling over and fading into pixilated nothingness.

"You bastard!" Leah shouted, holding her rifle up.

Jingwei shrieked at her in Mandarin. Going off of his tone, he wasn't being nice.

"I don't know what the fuck you just said," Leah hissed, running at him, "but I hope it was goodbye!" She swung her rifle up, cuffing his chin and jerking his head back, and pointed her gun at him as he stumbled back. She pulled the trigger.

As soon as General Jingwei's body dropped and pixilated away, everybody froze. Leah looked around in confusion. Men were in mid-air, impaled on swords, in the process of shooting or being shot, and nobody was moving; except for General Chase, who walked forward with his haughty, pompous smirk.

"That'll do, soldier," he drawled around his cigar. "Stand down."

"Sir, yes, sir."

"With the General's death, our boys can secure this refinery and be on their way to Anchorage proper. You've helped pave the way for taking the city back from the Reds, soldier. Good work. That'll complete this portion of your training. Report to your superior for debriefing. Dismissed!"

Leah had time to send Benji one last farewell glance before everything burst into bright, white lights.

* * *

"Charon! _Charon!_ Wake up, wake up, wake up!" a muffled voice called out, cutting through his dreamless sleep like a razor.

The ghoul's eyes popped open and he lurched unsteadily onto his feet. The pod was reopening with a hiss, Leah beating at the insides with her fists when it wouldn't move quite fast enough for her. The doors spilled outward and she launched herself from the chair into his waiting arms.

Charon lifted her out of the pod with a chuckle, lowering her gently to the tiled floor. She wobbled as her legs threatened to give out, numb from misuse. "I can't wait to tell you about everything," she spouted off at once, blue eyes twinkling in excitement. "I wish you could have seen it, Charon! It was amazing!"

"I cannot wait to hear, smoothskin."

"Good to see you alive, Vault Girl," Rockfowl called in a teasing voice, climbing to his feet. "That video game fun?"

"More so than I can say. Charon, I met my great-great-great-great grandfather!" she cheered as she tested out her legs. She beamed at her ghoul when they were strong enough to keep her standing. "How's _that_ for an adventure?"

"Your great-great-great-great grandfather?"

"Yeah! His name was Benji Montgomery and he was a sergeant in the war. He was also a huge badass and really good at making snow angels."

Charon smiled, tracing her lips with a fingertip. "He sounds just like you, smoothskin."

"I'll tell you more later. For now, let's get this armory open. I'd give my left arm for this gun I found in the sim." Lacing her fingers through Charon's, Leah took off down the hallway.

McGraw was leaning against a wall outside of the armory, stroking his chin. He looked up at the sound of boots on metal and grinned. "You done already, lo – Vault Girl?"

Leah smirked at the quick correction. Evidently she'd earned some respect around her. "Piece of cake. Let me get this thing open." She shooed him out of the way and tapped through a terminal on the wall. Within seconds, the large, white armory door clanged open.

The Outcasts, Charon, and Leah peered into the wide room. A set of winterized T-51B armor was set almost adoringly onto a stand in between two shelves that were packed full of goodies. Leah was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Calm yourself, Vault Girl," Rockfowl remarked with a smirk. "You'll get drool all over the tiles."

"And if I punch you in the face, you'll get blood all over that shirt," she sneered back, frolicking – literally frolicking – into the armory. Charon trailed after with a fond chuckle. "Look – just look at this armor!" she cooed, turning and staring at him with wide, sparkling eyes. "_Armor . . . T-51B . . . armor. . . ._ _do want. . . ._" She ran her hands down the cool, white metal and shuddered. "I . . . I might have just come in my pants," she informed her ghoul shakily.

He facepalmed. "You are often times too much for me, Leah."

"Don't joke. You'd be _so bored_ without me." She shot him a cheeky grin. "Will you help me get this armor down, love?"

Charon stepped forward with a smirk and, instead of pulling the armor down, he planted his hands on her hips and lifted her up.

She shrieked in surprise, steadying herself with hands behind her on his shoulders. "Shit, Charon."

He chuckled. "Hurry, smoothskin. My strength can only last so long."

"Chyeah right. You're stronger than a goddamn deathclaw." Despite her claim, she lifted the helmet off, stuck it under one of her arms, then carefully disconnected the rest of the armor from the stand and pulled it away. Charon lowered her slowly to the ground so the armor didn't spill from her hands.

"I got to see some guys in this," Leah murmured, setting the armor down with a grin. "What else is there in here?" She began stalking up and down the shelves on the left, eyes narrowed as she inspected each piece of loot. She pocketed a handful of grenades and scooped all the microfusion and energy cells into the bag on Charon's back. She grabbed Jingwei's shocksword – "FUCKING SWEET!" – and the trench knife beside it.

It was the right shelf that floored her.

"GAUSS RIFLE!" she cried, grabbing the gun and wrapping her arms lovingly around it. Charon had never seen a happier smile on her face. "New toy?" he teased, reaching for it to take a look.

"No!" Leah jerked it away, glaring at the love of her life. "Nobody touches my baby but me. Nobody."

He rolled his eyes. "Let me see the gun, smoothskin."

"Nope. You'll have to wrestle it from my cold, dead fingers."

He growled, long and low and deadly. With a cool smirk, he stepped forward, backing her into the corner of the room. She stuffed the gun behind her back, inclining her head even as he bent low over her, pressing his face into the curve of her throat. When his teeth grazed her earlobe, she shuddered . . . but did not give in.

"Nice try, loser," she sneered, her voice shaking on the last syllable.

He chuckled into her skin. "I'll get to it eventually. Just you wait."

The sudden spray of gunshots had them scrambling for their weapons. Leah whipped her Gauss rifle out and sprinted for the hallway.

Sibley, Morrill and the rest of the Outcasts were opening fire on Rockfowl and McGraw, who retreated quickly behind a table they'd knocked over just in time.

Leah grinned. _Just the perfect opportunity to try this baby out._ She lifted the scope to her eyes and pulled the trigger, ready to impress the pants off of her arrogant ghoul.

No ammo.

She cursed under her breath, quickly stuffing microfusion cells into the rifle.

Charon chuckled beside her, pumping and shooting his shotgun, killing two men with the blast. "I'm real impressed, smoothskin."

"Shut the fuck up! I got it now!" She lifted the gun again and this time, when she pulled the trigger, the results were deadly. Her shot pierced an Outcast's helmet and killed him instantly. She glanced up at Charon for a split second and couldn't help smirking at how quickly his smug expression had been wiped away. Working together, with Terrible Shotgun and Gauss rifle, they managed to take down every Outcast and injured Sibley and Morrill all by themselves. Leah shot them both in the foot and Charon rushed forward to kick away their weapons while they crumpled to the floor.

Rockfowl was the first to pop up behind the table, eyes wild and face matted with sweat. "That was crazy," he gasped at the two of them. "That was the fastest and most impressive gunmanship I've ever seen!"

"No big deal," Leah said with a shrug and a grin. Her smile faded as she looked down at Morrill, who was sobbing and holding his foot. She kicked him onto his back. "Protector McGraw? What's your plan for these two?"

McGraw got to his feet, lips set into a grim line. "I'm going to kill them."

Leah cocked an eyebrow, but did not disagree. "Whatever you say. You're the big shot. If you don't mind, I'd like to surface. I need some air and food and I don't like to eat where I play."

Rockfowl's chuckle echoed after Charon and Leah as they turned for the elevator. The doors were just sliding closed behind them when Leah heard the two quick blasts from a laser rifle, effectively ending the lives of Defenders Sibley and Morrill.

She peered up at her ghoul. He looked exhausted, eyes wearily fixed onto the metal grating of the floor, rubbing the back of his neck.

Charon glanced up as Leah stepped forward, a tentative smile on her face. "You can see my gun . . . if you really wanna."

He sighed out a laugh and pulled her into the circle of his arms. He kissed her forehead. "I missed you."

"Mmn, me too," she murmured, closing her eyes. "And I'm _starving_."

"Let's get some food in you." He took her by the hand as the doors opened and led her out into the square toward a metal bench. She flopped down onto it with a sigh, wincing as the neural suit dug into her skin at odd angles. "Damn it, I wish I could change."

Charon scanned the surrounding area and found a small, ruined room off of the corner. It was about closet-sized, the rest of it cut off by fallen debris. He gestured his smoothskin over and she danced into the room, her bag slung over her shoulder. He stepped in after her and closed the door, casting them both into darkness.

Charon jumped as he felt her hands working on the buckles of his armor. "Smoothskin?"

"Food can wait."

"But –,"

And then his pants were being undone and her mouth was very busy and there was really no need for words anymore.

* * *

Leah ran a hand over her face. It was the fifth time she'd woken up already – it must've been the damn simulation, messing with her head. She couldn't sleep to save her life. Casting a glance at Charon, who was still – rather adorably – asleep, she grabbed her box of cigarettes and lighter and ducked out from the small room into the hallway of the Outcast base.

She lit her cigarette in the elevator, inhaling smoke as it rumbled and jerked to life. The cool night air felt great on her sweat-slick skin as she stepped out onto the dry gravel. She was surprised to see someone else's silhouette perched on the bench in the corner. "Rockfowl?"

The Defender's head snapped up and he smirked around his own cigarette. "Can't sleep either, Vault Girl?"

"Not a wink," she grumbled, taking a seat beside him and hugging her knees to her chest. "Probably the damn simulation. I usually have no trouble sleeping."

"I wish I could say the same." He exhaled smoke, watched it swirl and dissolve.

Leah looked at him with a frown. "Everything all right, buddy?"

Rockfowl snorted. "Not at all. I got kicked out of Fort Independence."

"What? Why?"

He rubbed the back of his head, looking uncomfortable. "So, Casdin – our Protector – has this _daughter_ and –,"

"Oh, my God." Leah couldn't help it; she burst into laughter. "You fucked Casdin's daughter?"

Rockfowl ran a hand over his face, but his lips quirked up at one end. "Yeah. I fucked her until she screamed loud enough to wake up Defender Morgan, that little brat. She's been Casdin's little pet since the Outcasts branched off from the Brotherhood. She'd do anything to get in his good graces, including throw my ass under the bus." He snorted. "At least the sex was good. I even got to tell him so, after he told me I was being relocated."

"You've got some balls, Rockfowl, I'll give you that," Leah chuckled, tapping ash from her cigarette. She grinned at him in the darkness, teeth glinting bright white. "So you've been here ever since?"

"Yeah – and it's fucking miserable. McGraw may seem all right, but he's a weak man underneath. Weak men get stepped on when their charges don't like the way things are ran. I was telling your ghoul, he'd be fucked if I wasn't here, but actually . . ." He glanced sheepishly at her. "He'd be fucked if _you guys_ weren't here. I didn't get a chance to do a whole lot. I didn't think Sibley and Morrill would act so fast."

Leah leaned back, staring thoughtfully off into the distance. She ran a hand carelessly through the short choppy hair that remained on her head and bit her bottom lip.

Rockfowl watched her with an amused smile. "You're wondering what your ghoul and I talked about, aren't you?"

She laughed quietly. "Yeah, that is what I picked out of that whole thing the most. You guys get along?"

"Well enough. He gave me a smoke and we had a short conversation – comparatively, though, it's something, isn't it?" He lifted his eyes to the moon in the distance. "He really loves you."

Her lips curled up at one end. "I think so, yeah."

"You know I like you, too, right, Vault Girl?"

"I may be a little goofy, but I'm no moron."

"Cheh. I know that. Another reason I have the hots for you." He grumbled something under his breath and she managed to catch the words "bloody fucking idiot" before he raised his voice again. "Just my luck, huh? Getting a huge boner for a girl who's not only taken, but in love with the biggest, scariest motherfucker in the entire wasteland?"

Leah sighed. This was a conversation she did not want to have. Sure, she liked Rockfowl. He was a neat guy, funny, kind of silly like her. But she was with Charon for the long haul. Even thinking about another guy in that context gave her the skeeves. "If I hadn't ever met him, Rococo, there's the very real possibility that we could've worked out together," she murmured, blue eyes lifting to meet his through the darkness.

"Yeah, I know, Leah," Rockfowl whispered back, patting her amicably on the shoulder. "Don't feel pressured to explain it. I know a lost cause when I see one. Thanks for the consolation, though. That ought to give my self-esteem the quick kick it needs to get the fuck out of this place."

"You're leaving here?"

"Being an Outcast blows, Vault Girl." He flicked his lighter on and off, watching the flame erupt and die, the light illuminating and casting his face into darkness in rapid succession. "I'm thinking I might travel. I've never taken the chance to go out and see the Wasteland."

Leah smiled. "I like that idea. You'd love it. Charon and I base ourselves in Megaton, but I've been considering a switch to Tenpenny Tower. More posh. Plus, I have a pretty big family now and that little town is just not big enough." Her smile melted into a frown as she thought of the kids she'd left behind. "Man, I miss those little boogers."

"What, you give birth in these last three years?" he asked, sounding disturbed.

"I kind of wish sometimes," she admitted, her tone turning very serious. She glanced up at him, taking in his guarded expression. "I know how it sounds, but . . . sometimes I think of what it would be like to have Charon's children. I would love to. I mean, I never really _wanted_ children, but if somehow it were to happen, I don't think I'd ever mind. . . ."

"Vault Girl, you know –,"

"Ghouls are sterile. I know that. I just . . . daydream sometimes." She laughed. "A girl can't help it."

Rockfowl frowned, pausing for a moment. "So, ah, where did these 'little boogers' come from then?"

"Little Lamplight. I fell in love as soon as I saw 'em. I left them there with . . . a friend. A super mutant friend."

He facepalmed. "I swear, Leah, if you were any other girl, I'd say you were crazy. A super mutant _friend_?"

"Yep! His name is Fawkes and he's the biggest sweetheart you'll ever meet. Literally," she snickered.

"And you're letting him watch over these kids that you adopted?"

"What could protect them better than a super mutant?" she challenged with an arched brow.

Rockfowl shrugged. "Point taken."

Leah yawned, stretching her arms high above her head. "Good talk, Rockfowl. I think I'll be able to sleep now." She stubbed the rest of her cigarette out onto the metal bench and unfolded sinuously onto her feet. "See you in the morning, 'kay?" With a soft smile, she bent down and kissed his forehead.

He closed his eyes, bathing in her sweet scent, feeling her lips on his skin, wanting more, always more. And then the pressure of her kiss was gone, and he could hear her feet crunching on gravel as she walked away. He lifted a hand to his forehead and brushed the skin there. It felt warmer than the rest of his face.

She was a fucking miracle, that girl. If that ghoul could keep up with her, then he fucking deserved her. With a resigned sigh, Rockfowl shook another cigarette out of the box Leah had left at his side. He was going to need it.

* * *

**Poor Rockfowl haha. Cockblocked AND the most unfortunate first name in the entire Wasteland.**

**Pattyn, this story would be lost without you and that is a fact, plain and simple. Your reviews always motivate me to get going on the next chapter - probably why this story is updated so much more frequently than the others haha. I did get that line from the Cage the Elephant song ;) As for the Wrex quote, I couldn't help myself. I'm addicted, too.**

**ManInAMask01, I _loved_ having Charon say her full name. I thought it would be adorable haha. Glad you liked!**

**DaLover, you are really too sweet. I'm glad you weren't bored. Whenever a quest that I didn't like comes up in a fanfic, I get wary, too - if the writer's good enough, it turns out well. I'm glad you think that about me! :D**


	11. They See Me Rollin'

Leah sank down to her knees, pulling the bit of twine out of her bag with a soft tug. The grenade pins tinkled as they fell onto the tile floor.

"Charon," she murmured, tears almost welling into her eyes. She ran her fingers over the pins he must have added, stopping when she came to a new knot tied in the twine. He must have had trouble taking apart the first one. She giggled and unwound the string, thinking of her ghoul's frustrated expression as she retied it around her neck. God, she really loved him. He was the best thing in the whole wide world, better than Tesla cannons and Gauss rifles and every other good thing that existed. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if –

"Smoothskin!"

Her head snapped up to see Charon come skidding into the room, out of breath and grinning. "Come!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her onto her feet before she could even protest. Making sure to sling her back over her shoulder, she followed as best she could without falling, his longer legs and 99% muscle mass making that a feat in and of itself. They ran all the way through the Outcast impound and into the elevator, where Charon slapped the button to start it.

He tapped his foot impatiently as it jerked slowly to life. Leah raised a brow at him, gasping for breath. "May I ask what is so damn important that you had to tug me around like a ragdoll?"

Charon's smile was breathtaking in its excitement. "No. It is something you must see to believe, smoothskin." He roughly kissed her and she laughed against his lips. The elevator came to a stop and Charon was already pushing the doors open, the metal groaning in protest against his strength. When Leah did not move fast enough for his liking, he scooped her up into his arms and threw her over his shoulder.

"God damn it, Charon," she griped, barely keeping her face from bumping into his back and her bag from dropping into the dust.

"You will see!" he called happily. He carried her at a jog through the courtyard and up the long ramp.

"You didn't need to grab Leah and sling her up here like a sack of potatoes," she heard Rockfowl's voice snark from over Charon's shoulders.

Her ghoul simply snorted and lowered her gently to the ground. She shook her head to help the blood flow return and he carefully fixed her clothes. "Ready?" he asked eagerly, eyes alight with excitement. He gently took her shoulders in his hands and turned her around.

"I don't understand what could possibly be –," she began to complain, and then she fell silent as she saw it.

The truck had a very faded camouflage design that was almost imperceptible after the years of wear and tear. A large cab was shielded by thick doors, but no windshield or windows. The long bed was protected by short walls on the perimeter, to keep what was inside _in_ and what was outside _out_. Leah tentatively approached the vehicle, holding out a disbelieving hand.

"You like it, Vault Girl?" Rockfowl asked in a teasing voice. There was no way she _didn't_ like it.

She turned to him with wide eyes. "You guys made this?" she asked of him, McGraw, and the few Outcasts that had remained faithful.

McGraw shrugged, puffing on a cigar in his mouth. "My boys and I have scraped through the wreckage and found tons of parts for old army vehicles like this one. We've managed to pull a few of 'em back together. After the help you've given us, the least I could do is make sure you get back home safely." He nodded at the vehicle with a proud jerk of his head. "This is an MK25 Cargo Truck. It'll carry anything that needs to be carried, I can guarantee you that. Also – oh!"

Leah had sprinted forward and thrown her arms around the Protector's neck. "Thank you," she said, her voice muffled and tinny against his power armor. "This is amazing." She pulled away with a twinkle in her eye. "Can you show me how it works?"

McGraw snorted. "Like I have time for that. Defender Rockfowl offered to teach you how to use it. I've got a ton of work to do after I lost the other two Defenders. Have fun with it, Vault Girl. And don't fucking wreck it." With that as an eloquent farewell, McGraw turned on his heel and led the rest of the Outcasts away.

"I cannot wait," Leah said, nearly bouncing on the heels of her feet. She looked up at Charon and laughed. "No wonder you were so excited."

Charon smirked back. "Now you just have to learn how to drive it."

Leah's smile disappeared. "Oh. Right." She frowned. It felt strange to _not_ know how to do something. For the first time in a very long time, she felt _nervous_. "Do _you_ know how to drive?" she demanded defensively of her ghoul.

He chuckled. "Yes, smoothskin. As a matter of fact, I do. I _was_ in the great war, after all."

"God damn it."

Rockfowl rolled his eyes. "Come on, Vault Girl. It's not so tough. I'll show you."

Leah followed dutifully after the Defender as he rounded the front of the truck, Charon's soft footsteps crunching behind her. Rockfowl pulled open the driver's side door. The cab was a good amount of feet off of the ground and there were no running boards to help her up. Rockfowl made to grab her waist and lift her.

She slapped his hands away with a smirk and backed up a few steps. Still smiling, she sprinted forward and vaulted herself up onto the seat with a whoop of excitement. Rockfowl chuckled, shaking his head. With one swift movement, he lifted himself up beside her. She scooted out of the way, hands stuffed impatiently into her lap.

There was a sharp thud of metal on metal and they jumped, turning to look through the back window.

Charon had leapt easily into the bed of the truck and smirked at them, blowing Leah a kiss.

Rockfowl scowled, turning back around. Leah's cheeks were pink as she looked at him. "First step, Rococo?"

"Turning the truck on," he informed her curtly, inserting the keys and turning them. With a roar so loud that it startled Leah into jumping again, the engine rumbled to life.

"Jesus," she muttered.

Rockfowl laughed. "Then you put it in drive." He indicated a straight level between her legs where she sat in the middle seat. "You make sure your foot is on the brake. That's the left one here." He pointed down at his feet. Leah nodded to show she understood. "Then you grab the shift and put it into drive." Mindful of a deadly glare hot on the back of his head, Rockfowl put his hand over the round head of the lever and lowered it until an orange tab appeared beside the letter _D_ – awfully close to Leah's thighs.

"Got it," she confirmed, too focused on the task at hand to notice.

Rockfowl pulled his hand back and placed it on the wheel, not wanting to get himself killed the instant he set foot outside of the car. "Then, you gently release the brake." He made sure Leah was looking before he slowly lifted his foot from the left pedal. The car began to roll forward and Leah grabbed at the dashboard, shooting him a frantic, panicked look.

He laughed. "Calm down. It's fine. We're on a flat surface, we will only roll so far. To get us really going, you have to use _gas_." He moved his right foot to the right pedal and applied pressure. The vehicle roared and began to move forward with more speed. "You have to be really gentle, or else the car will buck like crazy!" he called over the sound of the engine.

Leah was grinning like a madman, teeth white and glinting as wind whipped through the opening where the windshield would have been. "This is incredible!" she cried as they picked up speed. She could faintly hear laughter behind her and glanced over her shoulder to see Charon's smile.

Rockfowl drove them over broken building debris. "It's an army vehicle, so it'll drive over almost anything," he informed her as the car crawled expertly over fallen walls and windows. They broke out into the open wasteland, the tires crackling over dry dirt. "Would you like to try?"

"You bet your sweet ass, I wanna try," Leah gasped excitedly. Rockfowl slowed the car to a stop and threw it into park. "Get outta the way!" she snapped, nearly pushing him out of the cab. He stepped carefully down onto the ground, laughing. Leah took the driver's seat with a wild grin. She cried out when Charon swung through the back window into the seat beside her.

"You like it," he observed with a smirk.

"I fucking love it. You'd better hold on, Coco!" she called back at Rockfowl as he hastily climbed into the bed of the truck.

"We're good, Vault Girl!"

"Goooood," she purred, pushing down the brake pedal. She maneuvered the lever into drive and clenched the wheel in her hands. Charon put a supportive hand on her thigh and kissed her cheek. "Thanks," she muttered. "Here we go!" She released the brake and the car began to roll forward. With a whoop of laughter, she punched the gas. The truck jumped and then flew into motion, shoving Charon and Leah back into the seats with the force of it. Rockfowl cursed loudly as he grabbed onto the back of the cab.

"Jesus Christ, Leah!" he roared at them.

Leah couldn't hear him. Over the sound of Charon's laughter and the engine's feral growl beneath her body and her heartbeat rushing wildly in her ears, there was nothing else.

She and Charon had been a force to be reckoned with before, but now, _now_, with this _monster_ of a truck . . . there was literally nothing that could stop her.

* * *

Joseph ran a hand over his face, closing the door to the room he shared with Penny. His sister was finally starting to sleep through the night. Her nightmares had been horrible the first week. He moved silently down the stairs, tiptoeing carefully around the ones he knew would squeak. Nobody was in the bar. It was probably three in the morning, but he couldn't sleep. Penny's nightmares had thrown off his sleep cycle.

He stepped out into the cool night air, pulling a box of cigarettes from his back pocket. He didn't like the smell of the smoke, but it was relaxing going through the motions. The cigarette was between his lips and he was just flicking his lighter on when footsteps alerted him to a presence behind him. He whirled, holding his lighter out like a weapon.

A pretty, pale, feminine face smiled back at him. "I know it's been a while, Joseph, but you don't need to be frightened of me." Her dulcet murmur crawled over his skin like a shot of gin, hot and overwhelming. Brown eyes glinted at him through the darkness, black in the dim light. A slender hand pulled the unlit cigarette from his mouth – fingertips grazing his lips – and broke it in half. "And stop that. You know I hate when you smoke."

Joseph shrugged, trying to play it cool as his pulse skyrocketed and his stomach twisted into anxious knots. "Just trying to relax," he said softly.

Her lips tugged up at the end into that crooked smile that sent shivers down his spine. "There are other ways to relax, Joseph," she whispered huskily. She insisted on using his full name and god damn it, he loved it when she did. She let out a small laugh as she stepped forward, pressing her body fully against his. He was just inhaling to ask her if she was okay when her lips met his.

The first thing that went through his mind was that she tasted sweet, like bubble gum. Her fingers wound around the collar of his shirt, pulling him – perhaps impossibly – even closer to her. When he remained frozen in uncertainty and insecurity, she laughed and kissed the left corner of his mouth. "For such a cocky bastard, Joseph, you can be so adorably doubtful."

"Just hedging my bets, Mags," he muttered, running his hands down her bare shoulders. "I like your dress."

"I bought it for tonight." Her fingertips traced his collarbone, exposed as it was over the top of his shirt. "For you."

"Oh."

With another soft laugh – one that shocked his nerves – she trailed her hand down to wrap around his and pulled him away from the railing. "Come on. I have something to show you."

Joseph let her draw him forward, his head swimming with the taste and feel of her. Her body was perfectly outlined in moonlight, hips swaying as if calling his name. He was so entranced that he nearly knocked her over when she came to a stop outside of her house.

"Now you're eager?" She giggled, kissing his cheek as she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"But what about –?" he began uncertainly.

"Billy is out of town for a week," she replied easily. Joseph closed the door behind them as she stepped into the dark dining room. She turned and smiled at him. "Would you like a tour of the house, Joseph?"

He swallowed hard. "Isn't that just what girls say when –?"

"They want to get you in bed?" she finished for him with a smirk. "Absolutely. So come on. We're wasting precious night time." He followed her up the stairs and into a room to the left. A small bed was surrounded by the glow of candles and the smell of lavender permeated the room.

"Is it too much?" Maggie asked quietly from beside him, showing self-consciousness for the first time that night.

Joseph smiled, pulling her back into the circle of his arms. "Never," he murmured before he kissed her. Her small moan got muffled into his lips as they fell backward onto the bed. Maggie began unbuttoning his shirt as his tongue brushed tentatively against hers. She responded in kind and, for the first time, they explored each other's mouths with the hesitant pleasure of new lovers. Her hands spanned the warm muscles of his chest and she sighed in appreciation. When he broke away for air, ducking his lips to her throat instead, he took the opportunity to curl his hands around her back and unzip her dress.

There were a few moments of awkward fumbling before they were both bare in the dim candlelight, hot skin pressed against skin. Joseph ran a hand down her curves, mumbling his pleasure into the curve of her neck.

"I love you," he whispered against her lips as he brushed his fingertips over the wet folds of her center.

Maggie's breath hitched and her hips jerked against his. "I love you, too."

Those were the last four words Joseph needed to hear before their bodies became intertwined, and then there was really no need to speak after that.

* * *

Leah hugged the Defender in farewell. He sighed as he held her, shaking his head. "Bittersweet, isn't it, Vault Girl?"

She smiled understandingly as she pulled away, blue eyes glinting. "We'll see each other again, I'm sure. It's not that big of a Wasteland. Especially not with this huge truck." She jerked her head at the Vehicle behind her, Charon waiting impatiently in the driver's seat.

"Thanks for dropping me off, anyways," Rockfowl muttered, lighting himself a cigarette as he turned to the old building of Fort Independence. "It won't be fun seeing Casdin again, but I've still got some shit here of mine I need to pick up before I can disappear into the Wastes."

"Good luck."

"To you, too, Vault Girl." He paused, glancing over her shoulder. "And to your ghoul. If that doesn't work out, you come and find me."

Her lips quirked up into a crooked smile. "I'll keep it in mind."

"Good," he grunted, turning and walking down the hill toward Fort Independence. Leah watched him go until he disappeared into the door, smoke trailing after his dark silhouette. She crawled back into the truck beside her ghoul and kissed him softly as he started the engine.

They disappeared into the Wastes.

* * *

Joseph whistled a tuneless song as he picked up some food from The Brass Lantern. Jenny Stahl smiled at him, and he smiled back. God damn, it was a good day. He grabbed the tray of brahmin steak and turned to make the long trek back up the catwalks to Billy Creel's place, where he had a very hungry and hopefully still very naked woman to attend to.

"Hey, pisshole!"

His brow furrowed and he turned to see who was yelling. Harden Simms was walking towards him, his hands on his hips. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, you," the sheriff's son called, stepping aggressively up to Joseph. "What the fuck is it I hear about you and Maggie Creel?"

"I hope you've heard that it's none of your business," Joseph replied coldly, mentally calculating where he could put the tray so he could slide his blade from its sheath on his leg and thanking God that Leah and Charon had taught him to always keep it on him.

Harden smacked the tray from his hands and it went flying away, Jenny Stahl crying out in shock from where she stood behind the counter.

Joseph moved so quickly that the motion in and of itself could have stunned Harden. He added a strike to the equation for good measure, grabbing the sheriff's son by his arm, twisting him, and delivering a punch to his stomach before letting him drop.

Harden crumpled, the wind knocked out of him, unable to form any words.

"You leave Maggie and me alone," Joseph said calmly, an undertone of warning in his voice as he picked up his tray and its contents again. He looked over at a very worried Jenny. "I'm sorry to disturb your restaurant in this way, Ms. Stahl." With one last seething glare at Harden Simms, Joseph turned on his heel and walked away.

* * *

The truck rolled up to the big gates under a full moon and came to a stop with a screech of old brakes and a cloud of dust.

Stockholm pushed his goggles up from his face and rubbed his eyes, disbelieving. When Leah and Charon hopped out of the cab, he couldn't say he was surprised. Who else would have found a humongous fucking truck out in the Wasteland?

"Heya, Stockholm!" the Lone Wanderer called up to him as she headed for the gates.

The lookout waved back down at her, shaking his head.

Charon and Leah strolled into Megaton in a good mood. They'd made excellent time thanks to the truck and they were excited to see the rest of their family and inform them of their move. Leah had just made it to the bottom of the hill when she was accosted by a furious Lucas Simms.

"Leah!" he cried, straightening his cowboy hat with a glare. "You know I think the best of you, but when my kid comes home with a bruise the size of an eyebot, _that's_ when I get pissed!" he accused.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Leah said, holding her hands up to calm him down as Charon growled threateningly behind her. "I wasn't even _here_ for the past –,"

"I'm talking about that snarky fucking kid of yours," Lucas interrupted in a hiss, swinging a hand to point up at Gob's Saloon above them.

"Joseph?" Charon demanded, putting a hand on the sheriff's shoulder to stop his movements. "Joseph attacked your son?"

"I don't know who started it," Lucas admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "All I know is, my son came home punched in the stomach and said it was your boy. You keep a hold on that kid or I will, you hear?"

Leah nodded, silencing Charon with a pointed glance. "Let me go talk to him, Simms, before I agree to anything. Joseph is hardly a troublemaker."

Lucas Simms snorted but walked away, his arms crossed fitfully over his chest.

"I don't understand," Charon said through gritted teeth as they hurried up the nearest catwalk.

"Me neither, but we'll get his side of the story. Joseph would never act unprovoked, we know that," Leah reassured him quietly. She pushed open the door to the saloon, frowning in concern. "Gob?"

The ghoul looked up from behind the counter. "Hey, Leah. You missed Joseph beating up that Simms kid." Dogmeat perked up from where he lay beneath a barstool and ran at them to rub against Leah's legs. She absentmindedly stroked his ears, glancing worriedly at Charon.

Footsteps on the stairs made them all turn as Penny climbed slowly down to the first level. She shot Leah a tentative smile. "I think Joseph is next door . . . at Maggie's house," she told her shyly. "He didn't do it on purpose, either."

"I believe you, Penny," Leah replied with a smile, grateful that she had opened up a little. "Thanks." Taking Charon's hand, she crossed the catwalk to Billy Creel's house and knocked on the door. "Joseph?" she called.

There were rapid footsteps down a staircase and then the door was pulled open. Joseph peered out at them and grinned. "Hey, you guys are back!"

"Who is it?" a female voice called from a room up the stairs.

"Leah and Charon," he called easily back. "Come on in."

The couple exchanged a wary glance and accepted his invitation. "Where's Billy?" Leah asked carefully.

"Out of town for a week or so," Joseph replied, returning to the stove where it appeared he was frying a brahmin steak. "I was just making dinner for Mags and myself."

"Did you really hit that child?" Charon demanded, gunning straight for the point.

Joseph sighed, his shoulders slumped as he turned back to his father figure and leaned back against the counter. "I did. I was getting food from Jenny down at the Lantern and he comes up out of nowhere, demanding to know about Maggie and me. I told him it was none of his business and he smacked my tray out of my hands. I gave him a quick punch. Just enough to let him know to leave me the hell alone. That was it. It's not my fault if the baby can't get over a small hit to the stomach. You can ask Jenny if you don't believe me," he offered solemnly.

"I believe you," Leah said quietly, tugging on Charon's hand. He looked down at her with a stony expression.

"I do as well," he muttered reluctantly, turning back to Joseph. "But no more fights."

"Done deal, pops," Joseph said with a shrug.

Maggie came running down the stairs, her face flushed in embarrassment. "Sorry I didn't come greet you guys. I was getting dressed."

Leah blanched as Charon let out a laugh. He and Joseph exchanged a glance. "Erm, it's no problem," Leah said awkwardly. "Charon and I just wanted to get to the bottom of this beating-the-crap-out-of-Simms business. Joseph, Charon and I have some news so if you'd come by the saloon tomorrow morning?"

"Good news or bad news?" Joseph asked curtly.

"Depends. Mostly good. It may or may not affect you, though, given your . . . current situation." She glanced warily back and forth between him and Maggie and turned for the door, her hand around Charon's. Joseph followed to let them out.

Light spilled out onto the dark catwalk as they moved through the door. Leah made off for her house, but Charon lingered, waiting until she was out of earshot.

"Did you do what I think you did?" he asked in a low voice.

Joseph smirked and nodded. "You bet."

Charon held out a fist and Joseph smacked it with his own. "You'd better get going before you lose the chance to do the same tonight," Joseph advised, eyeing Leah's frustrated march.

The ghoul snorted and shook his head. "Impossible. But that's something you pick up over time." He was still chuckling darkly under his breath as he walked away, leaving Joseph staring after him with equal parts admiration and envy.

* * *

When Charon reached the house, Leah was waiting perched on the edge of her heart-shaped bed, making a face as he entered and closed the door behind him. "I –," she began, holding a finger up in the air.

She didn't get a chance to finish her thought. Charon lurched forward and in the next second they were tangled on top of the bed, his hot mouth finding hers in the motion. Leah had intended to hammer out all the logistics of their move tonight, plan out the trip and where they would stop to let the kids walk around, how much food they should pack, the best way to ensure their safety during the journey.

Instead, she spent it screaming variants of curse words, prayers, and Charon's name. When they were both spent and finished, limbs strewn haphazardly over the large bed, panting and staring at the ceiling, Leah surmised that they could talk it all out in the morning and, all in all, couldn't bring herself to call it a wasted night.

* * *

**Can I just say, I love arrogant Charon. **

**DaLover, sorry for the wait! I had a 7 page paper to write for my classes, but now it's spring break and I can spend it doing what I love to do most ;) As for whether or not Leah was a cocktease . . . that's up for interpretation!**

**Anastasia, thanks for reviewing at all! It's always a pleasure to know someone likes what you've written! And yes, Rockfowl is lucky Charon wasn't there haha. **

**ManInAMask01, I'd never brought it up before but it's a sad truth for Leah and Charon :(**

**- An eternal thank you to Pattyn, as always! :D**


	12. Movers and Shakers

"Gooood morning, _child-ren!_" Leah yelled in her best Three Dog impression, kicking open the door to the saloon.

Its inhabitants all cringed away from the light and noise, grumbling unhappily. Dogmeat panted up at her with one of his best doggy smiles. The Lone Wanderer grinned at them all as Charon filtered in beside her. "Now, I bet you're all wondering why I gathered you here right now," she greeted them all.

"I'm wondering why the fuck you had to gather us here at eight in the morning," Joseph snapped, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Seconded," Nova agreed wearily beside Gob.

"Because we're moving today and the earlier we head out, the earlier we arrive." She pulled a map from her back pocket and flapped it out onto the counter. She'd scribbled out the map in the wee hours of the morning, a scaled up replica of the one on her Pip-Boy so she could map out a course. "We're headed here." She jabbed a finger at a small sketch of Tenpenny Tower. "But first we have to stop _here_ to pick up the rest of the little boogers." Her finger swung over to a picture of Fawkes and Bumble holding hands to represent Little Lamplight. "And right now, we are here." She pointed at a picture of Lucas Simms frowning beneath a ridiculously oversized cowboy hat. Gob chuckled at that.

Leah nodded and cocked her hands on her hips to address Gob, Nova, and a wary-looking Joseph. "So that's the plan. We move out today."

"How are we getting there without dying, genius?" Joseph quipped.

"Easy, you little pessimist," she shot back. "In _this_!" With a dramatic flick of her wrists, she flipped the paper onto the other side to show a perfect drawing of the MK25. "Call it a gift from our friends the Outcasts."

"Whoa," Nova gaped as Gob rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

"That would do it," Joseph amended in a grumble. His lips twitched downward and he rubbed a hand over his face. "You guys talk logistics. I need a second." In three long strides, he'd cleared the saloon and stepped out onto the catwalk. Leah and Charon exchanged a pointed glance before the ghoul got up from his barstool and followed his honorary son outside.

"Now, we need to get packing," Leah muttered, bringing another slip of paper out from her back pocket.

"You keep a library back there?" Gob joked, slinking an arm around Nova's shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Yeah, yack it up and you'll be walkin' there," the Lone Wanderer threatened, sliding the paper out onto the counter. "I made a list of shit we need. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go arrange the taking over of your saloon." With no more than a toss of her head, Leah marched out.

Nova grabbed the paper where she'd left it and rotated it so that she and Gob could read it.

Very Important Shit To Bring So We Can Leave This Hellhole

1. Food and water… pretty obvious you dipshits

2. Clothing. Yes, Nova, even that skimpy little night dress you have. In fact, especially that little night dress. For Gob's sake.

3. Guns. Charon and I have plenty, but any weapons you have laying around the bar won't hurt to bring along as well.

4. For God's sake, don't forget to bring booze. It's gonna be a long fucking trip and you know that saying… how does it go… time flies when you're so drunk you can't pee straight?

We're employing a buddy system in case somebody falls off of the truck while it's in motion. Or hell, while it's not in motion. We all know how clumsy you are, Gob. Need I explain that you two are 'buddies?' Also, 'buddy system' does not mean 'we-can-fuck-in-the-truck' system. Some restraint, please. You'll give Charon an aneurysm.

Um, that's about it guys. Try to pack light. It's a truck, not a cargo ship. Gob, your saloon is in good hands. We raised him right.

_- Leah_

_

* * *

_

Joseph hoisted himself up onto the railing, watching Charon light a cigarette as he leaned against the saloon. Those blue eyes flickered up to his, dark and earnest. It was rare that Charon was ever really serious with him, so he waited.

The ghoul finally took a long pull of smoke and exhaled, tracking the wisps as they dissolved. "You're staying here." His gaze returned to the boy's, solid, pointed, as if hoping to portray an entire conversation with just that look.

Joseph raised an eyebrow and couldn't help smiling. He respected the hell out of the guy, but he wasn't the world's greatest conversationalist. "Is that an order, gramps?"

"Smart ass," Charon grumbled, shaking his head. "You know I don't give orders. I was making an assumption. Am I correct?"

He sighed. "I don't know, pops. You know I want to be by you and Leah, but . . . I've kind of carved out a life here."

"That's what Leah said. That same goddamn phrase, actually. 'Carved out a life.' Seems a little violent to me," Charon mused with a shrug, "but I'm no poet." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

"And really fuckin' terrible at expressing your emotions," Joseph added with a smirk. "I'll miss you, too, gramps."

Charon snorted, but didn't make to disagree with him as he blew out a puff of smoke. "Leah set everything up for you. The bar is yours."

"Really?" Joseph craned his neck back to take in the old, rundown shack. It had never looked more beautiful in his life. "That's . . . wow." He had a place to live. He had a job.

He had something to supply Maggie and Penny with everything they needed.

Charon nodded in approval, as if reading his thoughts. "Gob needs someone to take care of the place after he leaves. You need somewhere to work and live."

"It's perfect," Joseph agreed quietly. "Thanks . . . Charon."

The ghoul jerked his head once in recognition. "Yeah, well, Leah did all the work." There was the creak of the door behind him and he grunted without even having to turn around. "Speak of the devil."

"And she shall appear," Leah finished with a smirk, coming up and lacing her hand through his. "Everything set up?"

"Yep," Joseph answered with a sincere smile. "It's a load of worry off my back, Leah. Thank you."

"It was no problem. I'd hate to leave you with nothing. I'll miss you. Nobody else has the guts to wrestle with Charon."

The ghoul and boy both snorted at the same time. Exchanged a glance. Looked away in embarrassment.

Leah smiled at them fondly as the door to the saloon was slammed open and Gob backed out of it with a large trunk in tow. He grunted as he dropped it onto the catwalk, heaving for breath. Nova danced out after him with an easy smile. "Hey, guys! We're ready!"

"Take it down to the truck," Leah instructed with a nod towards the gates below. "We'll be down in a second. Our shit's already packed up."

Gob glared blearily at her. "Let's see you . . . carry this thing . . . with all of her _crap_ inside of it!" He pointed accusingly at Nova.

She shrugged and started walking down the catwalk. "See you there, baby!"

"It's fucking impossible!"

Charon put a hand on the smaller ghoul's shoulder, prompting him to look up – and up and up. Fuck, he was tall. "Women love strength, Gob. If you can get that trunk to the truck before Nova arrives, I guarantee you she will make her appreciation known."

"Yeah?" Gob raised the remains of an eyebrow at him. "Since when are you Casanova?"

He shrugged, exhaling smoke. "I have always been excellent with the ladies."

"Yeah, there was this one time that he strangled me," Leah added, affecting admiration and making puppy eyes up at her ghoul. "It was _so romantic_."

Charon growled as she winked at Gob, who burst into laughter. Despite their banter, he lugged the trunk up into his arms and marched determinedly down the catwalk after his smoothskin.

"Can you please not emasculate me in front of my friend and my son?" he grunted, shaking her arm out from around his with an annoyed twist to his lips.

Leah blew him a kiss. "Just had to knock you off that high horse, Charon."

Joseph chuckled. "How have you two survived as a couple?"

"We haven't."

"We hate each other."

"We are splitting up."

"I've found a new ghoul."

"And I a new smoothskin . . . with larger breasts."

The absolute conviction and anger in their eyes had Joseph coming up short. "Are you guys serious?"

They simultaneously burst into laughter, Leah's cheeks turning bright red as Charon supported himself with a hand on his knee to keep from falling over.

"He actually – thought we were serious!"

"I thought he was smarter than that!"

Joseph glared. "Fuck you guys."

"Give me a hug, loser," Leah managed around a laugh and pulled him into an embrace. "Love you."

"You, too, Leah."

She kissed him on the cheek and turned to go, but not before winding up and slapping Charon hard on the ass. Her eyes narrowed into furious slits as he recoiled in shock. "And don't think I'll forget that 'breasts' comment. If mine are too small, you can go fondle someone else's." With a dignified _hmph_, she stomped away.

Charon and Joseph watched her go with matching smiles. "You're fucked, gramps."

"She'll come around." The arrogance was plain in his voice. Plainer still was the immense love he felt for her. "If she didn't put up a fight every now and then, she wouldn't be Leah."

Joseph paused, frowning in deep thought. He finally glanced up at the ghoul. "You really think of me as a son?"

Charon gave a noncommittal grunt and tugged him into a rough, one-armed hug. "You know what I think of you, Joseph. Take care of yourself."

"You, too, pops. And Leah."

The words left his mouth as if it were the most obvious truth ever spoken. "Until the day I die." With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Charon patted Joseph one last time on the back and left after his smoothskin.

* * *

Charon held the wheel with one hand as he shook out another cigarette. As he lit it, his eyes wandered over to the passenger seat.

Leah was curled up with her head resting on his right thigh, Dogmeat stretched on the floor in front of the seat. Her slender arms were wound around the shaggy coat of his neck as she slumbered, legs kicked fitfully over the end of the seat.

With a slow smile, Charon gently brushed a hand over her growing black hair. She'd been sleeping for over an hour. He was amazed she'd been able to among Nova and Gob's drunken din behind them, but he supposed you didn't survive in the Wasteland without finding some way to sleep in less than ideal situations. He was just glad the two had shut the hell up. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he confirmed that Gob was passed out on one of the benches, Nova resting in the cradle of his arms.

It was quiet. Just him, the thrum of the engine, and the fucking Wasteland.

Oh, and Dogmeat. The hound peered up at him with those ever-faithful, mismatched eyes and ran a lick up his free hand where it rested over Leah's shoulder.

"We'll be there soon," Charon reassured the dog, rubbing the fur between his ears.

"Charon."

The mumbled sigh took him by surprise and he quickly glanced down to see that Leah was, indeed, still asleep. She released Dogmeat and curled her arms instead around his thigh, nuzzling her face into the material of his pants. "I do."

"You do what, my smoothskin?" Charon asked in quiet amusement, running his hands through her short hair. When he got no reply, he brushed his fingers over her sleeping lips before returning his hand to the wheel. "Whatever you do, Leah, I do, too."

* * *

"God damn it, my ass hurts," Gob complained as he hopped shakily down from the bed of the truck. He at least had the sense to turn and help Nova down behind him. "And my head."

"Maybe if you hadn't downed an entire bottle of vodka," Charon reminded him. "Wake, smoothskin," he added in a gentler voice, lifting Leah out of the truck and into his arms. She stirred against his shoulder and blinked the sleep from her eyes.

"Already? You drive fast," she yawned.

"I do many things fast."

"I'd make a premature ejaculation joke . . . but I would be totally fucking lying." She gave him her best shit-eating grin.

He snorted in satisfaction. "Quite right, smoothskin." Dogmeat jumped down from the cab and trotted happily around his legs as he headed for the old, wooden door. The beast stopped, sniffed at a burnt up tumbleweed, and lifted his leg to relieve himself.

"Good boy! Good doggy woggy, Dogmeat, you're such a good wittle boy!" Leah cooed at him. He finished his business and woofed joyfully back up at her.

Charon grimaced openly. "My God, smoothskin, I have never been more disgusted with you. I almost dropped you."

She scowled and wriggled herself free from his hands anyways. "He's a dog! You're lucky we don't have kids!"

"We do," he grumbled, yanking the door open when it gave resistance. "We have over ten of them."

Leah's laughter reverberated around the cavern as they walked in. Dogmeat walked between Gob and Nova, who looked around in curiosity as they followed.

An excited shriek made Charon jump for his gun, but Bumble came tearing around the corner and threw her arms around Leah's middle. The Lone Wanderer picked her up and swung her in circles. "Bumble! I missed you!" She squeezed the girl tightly.

Bumble tried to get out words, but it all came out jumbled gibberish between the tears.

"'Bout time you assholes showed up," RJ snarked, leaning against the rock wall with a smirk. The rest of the children milled after him in excitement.

Fawkes tromped forward with earth-quaking footsteps.

Nova screeched and Gob jumped protectively in front of her.

"Did we not warn them about the babysitter?" Leah asked her ghoul with a rumpled brow.

"I suppose not," Charon replied with a chuckle. "Gob, Nova, this is Fawkes. Fawkes – Gob and Nova."

"A pleasure to meet you surely!" Fawkes roared. "A friend of a friend is a friend in the making!"

"Charon . . . how are we going to fit Fawkes on the truck?" Leah whispered, leaning close to his shoulder.

"That's a good question." He knuckled the bottom of his chin in thought. When he turned to her, there was a twinkle in his eye. "I think we will be able to manage."

* * *

"It's too windy!"

"Fawkes smells bad!"

"To be quite fair, your aroma is not any more appealing, Miss Princess!"

Charon and Leah broke into raucous laughter at the shock and devastation on Princess's face.

"You tell 'er, Fawksy," RJ encouraged through his barking laughter. It was an uncomfortable fit, but somehow Charon and Leah had managed to squish Fawkes's hulking figure into the bed of the truck and pile all of the children in on top of him. The bigger ones used the benches, while the smaller children like Bumble sat perched on his long legs.

Gob squeezed Nova's hand beside his and grinned at Charon. "Thanks for stickin' us up in here. I don't think I could handle straddling a super mutant for hours on end, no matter how friendly you say he is."

"Try straddling Jericho for an hour," Nova remarked with a snort of indignation. "You'd hop on that super mutant before you could say, 'Two hundred caps an hour!'"

"God damn it," Gob grumbled as the rest of the adults had a good, hearty laugh at his expense. "He probably smells better, too."

"I can guarantee you that."

"I'll tell you one thing I prefer in Jericho," Leah offered and they all turned to her with raised brows of disbelief. "I'd have way more fun punching _him_ in the mouth."

Their collective laughter followed the jam-packed truck all through the night.

* * *

Charon slung an arm around his smoothskin's shoulders as the children filed out of the bed of the truck. They whined and complained and stretched their aching legs as Fawkes wriggled his way free from the small space.

"Thanks, buddy," Leah sighed, patting his shoulder. "Really. You'll get your own goddamn suite for having to put up with that trip."

"I lived in a solitary room for far too long to mind a few hours in the back of a vehicle, friend Leah!" Fawkes declared. With no further ado, he scooped Bumble up onto his shoulders and gestured for them to lead the way.

Dropping her hand to lace through Charon's, Leah marched determinedly into the Tenpenny courtyard. Michael Masters gaped up in disbelief as she approached. "No stinkin' way! Is that Leah?" His eyes took in Charon beside her and he stiffened the smallest amount. "That's a big fuckin' ghoul."

"You bet he is," Leah agreed with a grin. "I also have a gaggle of children, two ghouls, a hot chick, and one super mutant that need a place to live. Roy promised me a place any time I want, for my entire family." She shrugged and waved at the large group that had gathered behind her. "_Estamos aquí_."

Michael grimaced. "I know what he said. He's not gonna like it, though." His eyes fell on Nova and he reconsidered. "He won't like about ninety percent of it."

Leah pushed past him and threw the doors open. "I got him this building in the first place."

The ghoul in question was perched on the desk in the middle of the lobby, Bessie Lynn twittering at his side. She spotted Leah first and cried out in surprise. "If it isn't that pretty smoothskin!"

"Hey, Bessie," Leah greeted her with a wave. "This is my . . . my . . ." God damn it, it had been over three years and she _still_ didn't know what to call Charon. She glanced at him, mortified.

He surprised her with an easy smile. "We're together," he offered diplomatically.

Roy Philips sized Charon up with understandable unease. "I told you that you have a place here, smoothskin, and I am a man of my word. Used to be a cop for fuck's sake. Some of the smoothskins remained behind, but only a spare, brave few." His smirk was devilish. "The ones who were too pissed-pants fucking scared to go out on their own."

"Please tell me that Susan Lancaster –," Leah began in a desperate voice.

"Is right here, _princess_."

Everyone in the room turned to see an older woman in a faded red dress, leaning against a nearby pillar with a cigarette and a sickly satisfied smile.

"God damn it," Leah muttered, fingers clenching around Charon's. "Thought you'd have cleared out of here with someone's dick tucked between your legs, you no-good, dirty _tramp_."

Charon's eyes widened, a response not many things could get out of him. He'd simply never heard his smoothskin use such foul language before – and with such bitter resentment.

"I didn't run off like that idiot Millicent. She got her fat ass killed the second she stepped out of the gates. Pity." Taking a drag of smoke, Susan turned on her heel and disappeared into the nearest door, her low laughter echoing after her.

"Ah, I love a good catfight. Can't you just smell it wafting through the air?" Roy gave a dramatically loud sniff and grinned. "Let me know when you decide to rip her hair out strand-by-strand, Messiah. I'd love to see that." He hitched a thumb over his shoulder at the stairs. "There are plenty of rooms open on the second floor. I assume you want your old suite."

"Yes, and the remaining two as well," Leah hissed, unable to shake the ice of the terse reunion from her tone. "For Gob and Nova and my super mutant friend."

Roy nearly swallowed the cigarette in his lips. "Super mutant? The fuck kind of place you think I'm runnin' here, hero?" he demanded.

"He's friendly."

Right on time, Fawkes ducked into the room with Bumble clinging to his back and Knock Knock holding one of his hands.

"See? With children. Completely innocent."

Roy rubbed his chin, sharing a glance with Bessie Lynn, before shrugging. "Fine. As long as he doesn't hurt me or mine, I'm good. I don't give half a yao guai's shit if he tears any of the smoothskins apart with his bare hands."

"If it's Susan Lancaster, I'd give him every last cap I own," Leah agreed with obvious relish.

* * *

"You did well, smoothskin," Charon murmured much later, his breath fanning warmth into the curve of her throat as he stroked her shoulder with tender, comforting caresses.

"I'm exhausted," she sighed, cuddling further into his side. She began to tick things off on her fingers. "The kids are paired off in their rooms, Gob and Nova are set up, everyone's been introduced to everyone else. . . ."

Charon gently tucked another of her fingers down. "And you have impressed me yet again with your efficiency."

"Thanks," she mumbled. Her fingertips traced designs over his bare chest.

"Will you tell me about that awful Lancaster woman?"

Leah groaned, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Charon was leaning back against the headboard and rubbing her back, patiently, listening. Leah shoved her hair back from her face with a frustrated jerk – it was long enough now to get in the way, but short enough to be unrestrainable by ties or bands. "I hate her because she's a fucking whore."

Charon raised a brow at her. "Nova used to be a whore."

"She's in a class all her own, Susan Lancaster. She doesn't do it for money. She does it for power. To hold the pussy above innocent, lonely men like Herbert Dashwood because she has nothing better to do with her life than to ruin others'."

The ghoul dithered. He'd never seen her so filled with hatred for someone – except maybe Colonel Autumn and the Enclave, but the reason for those was clear. This was murky. "I'm in uncertain territory here, smoothskin."

"I know. Sorry." She exhaled and rubbed the exposed skin of her bicep. "It's also more personal than that. Did I ever tell you about Mr. Burke?"

"The creepy man who wanted you to blow up Megaton."

"Right. I never told you how I got him to leave." Leah's expression turned wary, blue eyes dull in displeasure. "I flirted. Shamelessly, but effectively. He hightailed it out of there and headed back to Tenpenny Tower to tell Alistair himself that he wasn't going to blow the town up. Gross, but worth it. At least, so I thought."

Charon processed that information with a creased brow, before gesturing for her to continue.

"After disarming the bomb for good measure, I came here anyways to meet this Tenpenny. I was actually planning on killing him," she admitted with an unrepentant shrug. "He and Burke were both evil bastards. They deserved to die. So I came here on my vigilante mission. Unfortunately, Susan fucking Lancaster had heard of my using my womanly charms to get Burke to change his mind and she didn't like that. Not one bit. The bitch hopped into bed with him and convinced him that not only was I a ruthless whore who was fucking the entire town of Megaton, I also deserved to die for insulting someone from the prestigious Burke family." Her eyes lifted to his, heavy and sad.

"Smoothskin . . ." Charon's teeth were gritted in anger. "What happened next?"

"He did it, the fucking coward. He sent six mercs after both me and the town of Megaton. I got lucky that I intercepted them on the way. Had to drag myself up the Tenpenny steps with six bullet wounds, but I saved the day. Luckily Doc Banfield actually had a conscience and fixed me up. I'm glad he's still here." She splayed her hand against his chest, eyes tracing the break between pale tan and the red of exposed muscle. "Alistair Tenpenny and Mr. Burke mysteriously died that night." When her gaze returned to his, it was burningly triumphant. "Burke told me after some coercion that Susan was the one to set me up. Unfortunately, she never slept alone. I never got the chance to get her, too, for what she'd done.

When I met the ghouls and promised to help them, I made the specific deal that they were not to kill any of the humans. They were unhappy, but they agreed. Most of them left. All the ones that were bigots and assholes anyways," she added with another shrug. "The ones that stayed – Herbert, Margaret Primrose – they're good people deep down. Except for Susan Lancaster. I just never got the chance to get her."

Leah's voice faded into the silence of the large, empty room.

Charon opened his mouth to say something – anything – but Leah put a finger over his lips.

"I'm okay with it now, Charon. I mean, I still hate the fuck out of her and if she died some horrible, gruesome death, was brought back to life, and murdered again, you wouldn't see me shed a tear. But I'm not going to take any lives over it. I have a family. It's not worth it." Before he could protest, she leaned forward and captured his mouth in a soft kiss. "I love you."

"Love you, too," he sighed, pulling her into his arms. "Are you tired?"

"Extremely."

"Sleep, then, smoothskin," he murmured, tucking her under the lush covers of their new bed. He rolled onto his side next to her and rubbed her cheek with a thumb. "Dream peaceful dreams. Everything will be better in the morning."

Smiling, Leah nestled into his shoulder. He was lying. But God, if it didn't feel good to believe him. Just for tonight.

* * *

He moved silently through the dark lobby, his combat blade clenched in a fist behind his back. His footsteps made no noise as he ghosted into the room on the left. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could clearly make out the outline of a body on the bed in the corner.

_Sleeping alone tonight? Your last mistake, I'm afraid._

He faltered as he lifted the blade. What if it was the wrong person?

Luck was in his hand tonight. She turned over in her sleep, exposing her hateful face to him and ensuring that it was, indeed, his intended target.

_Good._

With one quick flash of movement, he ended her life.

He was gone before the first drop of blood hit the floor.

* * *

**Awww. Killing one of her enemies in the middle of the night? Charon really knows how to make a girl smile... **

**Anastasia, ManInAMask, & DaLover: The truck is my most favorite plot developer in the entire world haha. As for Joseph knocking Harden out: good riddance. That little brat sucks in the game, too. Glad you guys agree haha.**

**Callx0fxPuberty: Thanks for the review! Hope you got my review reply, but I'll put it here just in case: I've always pronouned it "Lee-uhh." I knew a girl named Leah once and I never talked to her because I didn't know how to pronounce her name. Also, she was ridiculously beautiful and that never helps hahaha.**

**A special thank you as always to Pattyn. If you haven't read her latest chapter of _Empire_, then go do it. That shit had me giggling for hours. And here I was thinking it wasn't possible to be any more in love with Desmond Lockheart... hahaha. I'm not exaggerating - go see for yourself!**


	13. The BuildUp

Leah yawned and pressed the button for the first floor. They'd been here for a month and she was still wrapping her head around the idea that everything was perfect. The kids were safe. They had constant food and (thanks to her, Charon, and her father) fresh, clean water. Their family was together. It was . . . it was perfect.

She tugged uncomfortably at one of the dress straps as the elevator rumbled her downward. She was accustomed to leather straps, metal plates, sheaths and holsters. A faded blue dress was something wholly foreign. She'd found it tucked away in a drawer in her suite and decided to try it. The elevator doors were just opening when she realized she kind of regretted it. Her hand was outstretched to punch the suite level button when her name was called. 

_Damn it._

"Daring," she sighed, stepping out of the elevator with a smile.

The old man greeted her with a hug and a belly laugh. "So glad you've moved in, Leah! You make an old man feel young again!"

"And you remind me of my father," she admitted with a smile.

"I'm honored." He kissed her forehead. "I heard he was one hell of a man."

"That and more. Always had his heart in the right place. Even if, eventually, that's what got him killed."

"I'd be ashamed to die in any other way. It's how Argyle passed, and it's how I want to go on," Herbert assured her kindly. "You look beautiful, my dear. Are you all dressed up for that ghoul of yours?"

Leah smiled through an uncharacteristic blush. "Mainly yes. Though sometimes a girl just has to dress up, you know?"

"I'd say that I understand . . . but really I don't." He chuckled and extended an arm for her to slide hers through. "I wish Penelope hadn't been an awful, evil bitch intent on enslaving everyone of Rockopolis," he lamented with a sigh. "She was a beautiful gal. Break your heart as soon as you saw her. I should have listened to Argyle, I really should have, but she had those blue eyes like yours. Those ones that say, 'Bam! You're in love with me!' How does a guy say no to that?"

Leah grinned fondly up at him. "I don't blame you, Daring. Who could?"

"My point exactly. Well, apparently _Argyle_ could, but he was the brains of the equation. And the brawn. He was pretty much every good part of the equation, come to think of it. That ghoul kept me alive more times than I could count," he confessed.

Leah steered them toward Primrose's restaurant with an understanding smile. "I know the feeling."

* * *

Charon nursed hot coffee while he supervised breakfast. The kids were old enough now to be able to handle it on their own, but put nine of them in the same room and it could turn into a disaster real quick.

"Whoa," he cautioned, snagging Zip by the shoulder and drawing him backward. The thirteen-year-old whipped his head up at the ghoul.

"What's wrong, huh? I'm just hungry. I've got a plate and everything. I don't get it. Why'dja stop me?"

Charon sighed. Three years and the kid still talked at the speed of light. He leaned downward and pulled him out of the way so that Lucy and Bumble could step into line in front of him for food. "Ladies eat first, Zip."

The boy's face scrunched up in impatience, but he did not argue. Nobody argued with Charon, really. The ghoul nudged him forward and Zip fell into place at the back of the line, fighting a scowl.

Charon straightened, taking another gulp of coffee. Margaret Primrose twittered happily as she served breakfast to all of the children. She was in her element here, among food and happy customers. She even cooed and ruffled Bumble's hair as the girl passed.

"They're so patient," Gob observed from a nearby table around a bite of brahmin steak. "And well-behaved."

"And they know better than to speak with their mouths full," Charon said with a smirk.

The smaller ghoul scowled and flipped him off as Nova laughed. "You tell him, Charon." She stroked her ghoul's hand and her eyes flickered upward as the door to the cafeteria opened. "Would you look at that," she murmured with a twinkle in her eye.

The two ghouls craned their necks to see who was walking in.

Herbert "Daring" Dashwood strolled into the room with a booming laugh and a beauty on his arm. "I dare say, my girl, I haven't had this much fun since my days running with Argyle!"

The woman attached to his side smiled up at him. Her porcelain skin shone under the artificial lighting, blue cotton flatteringly hugging her hips, black hair swooping elegantly down to her ears. She kissed the old man on the cheek and released his arm. "Stick around, Daring, and it'll be like this every day. I promise you." She watched him head for the breakfast line before turning to the three adults staring open-mouthed at her. Her brow furrowed at their gaping. "What is it?"

Gob and Nova shook their heads at the same time, unable to find words. But they weren't what she was looking at.

Charon's hand was shaking around his mug of coffee. He cleared his throat and set it down onto Gob's table before he dropped it and slowly approached his smoothskin. His blue eyes raked up and down her body, lips twisted upward into a smirk.

"Char – oh!"

His broad hands gripped her at the waist and tugged her up into a passionate kiss, her feet lifting off of the floor. Once the surprise faded, Leah folded her arms around his neck, laughing against his lips. "Good morning to you, too."

"You are beautiful," he mumbled, lowering her back to the ground.

"Gross!" RJ's voice cracked through their romantic moment, making them both turn and glare at him. "Get a fuckin' room, man! This is a place of dining!"

Gob and Nova chuckled when Leah smacked the back of his head, nearly startling him into dropping his tray of food. "Go eat, you little brat," she snapped, pointing him to a table.

"Wonderful culinary skill as always, Ms. Primrose, my dear!" Daring declared after taking a bite of squirrel-on-a-stick.

"Oh, Herbert," Margaret fluttered, cheeks pink as she waved a hand at him. "I've told you a million times over just to call me Marge."

"You're old enough to do this on your own, you know," Lucy chided as she cut a square of brahmin steak into smaller pieces.

Bumble smiled where she sat beside her. "But you do it so much better, Luce!"

"Roy said I can take over that bar across the way," Gob told Nova with a triumphant grin. "Said he can have that robot do patrols instead."

"That's wonderful, baby." His smoothskin smiled and kissed him in congratulations.

Charon and Leah watched it all in mild shock. "This place is too goddamn happy," he observed dryly.

"It needs a deathclaw or two. Some Enclave soldiers. Maybe an unexpected pregnancy as well, just to spice it up," she agreed. "Some kind of unforeseen tragedy."

"Give it time, smoothskin. Give it time."

"Like Susan Lancaster mysteriously slitting her own throat in the middle of the night?"

". . . I have no knowledge of such an incident."

"God, I love you."

* * *

"Lean into it! Exhale, hold it, squeeze the trigger! Not so fast, Zip! See how the gun jerked? You can't pull too quickly, or you'll miss every time."

Leah perched up on the security walls around the tower, watching with a smile as her ghoul barked out orders. Zip, Biwwy, Éclair, Knick Knack, and RJ were all lined up at the shooting point that the old Tenpenny guards had used as practice. RJ was doing just fine. Biwwy had impressed Leah and Charon with how easily he wielded his waser wifle – _laser rifle_, Leah reminded herself with a giggle – just 'cause he'd gotten over the speech impediment didn't make it any less fun to remember it fondly. Éclair and Knick Knack (or Nick, as he went by now) were well on their way to becoming expert marksmen, but Zip was still having trouble. Charon spent half the morning pacing behind them, hands clasped behind his back, and now he was standing behind Zip, giving him advice and angling his body into the right position.

He was a fantastic teacher.

Leah got the girls every other day. They were less enthusiastic about learning to shoot, but that also made them easier to control. Bumble loved shooting lessons. She was still very small, so Leah only let her go with a handgun, but what she lacked in size she made up for in gusto.

She dangled her legs from the top of the wall, basking in the sunshine. Golden rays danced warmly across her skin and she hummed along with her radio, happy, content.

_Pretty flowers need the sun, this applies to everyone, life's worth livin' when nature's givin', happiness to everyone, so let's go sunnin'!_

"Smoothskin."

She looked up to see Charon marching over. His smile was enough to send shivers down her spine. God damn it, he got more good-looking each day. He held up his hands once he'd reached her and helped her slide down from the top of the wall and into a warm kiss. "I have something to attend to," he murmured against her lips. "Would you mind supervising them while I am gone?"

Leah smiled knowingly. Tomorrow would mark the fourth year that they had been together. She'd had the common sense to get her gift for him beforehand, knowing by now that she was terrible with dates and would likely forget and muck the whole thing up. She jumped a little when Charon's hand slid into her back pocket and came out with the truck keys dangling from a finger. He kissed her one last time.

"You!" he called as he strode for the exit, pointing at RJ. "Let's go!"

MacCready turned with an excited grin, carefully unloading his rifle before switching the safety on and setting it onto the weapons table. He fell into step behind Charon.

Leah took her place behind the rest of the boys, watching them go with a curious smile. Getting the kids in on it? That was playing dirty.

* * *

"So what's your plan, gramps?" RJ asked, swinging himself up into the passenger seat of the truck.

Charon started the truck and glanced over at him with a grin. "Have you finished your part?"

"Yeah, Bumble just got done with hers last night. I think Lucy's putting it all together right now."

"Perfect. We're going to get the second part of her gift right now." The ghoul pointed at a bag near RJ's feet. "Would you get out Leah's map?"

MacCready found the paper and rolled it out between them. Making sure they were driving in a straight line first, Charon glanced down and indicated a small symbol near the middle of the map. "There. Leah and I helped a woman there who owns a very, very nice .44 magnum."

"Are you gonna kill her for it?"

Charon slapped the back of his head and growled disapprovingly. "We've taught you better than that," he scolded harshly. "I'm going to see if I can buy it from her."

"That works, too," RJ muttered, rubbing the back of his head in shame. "Sorry."

"Killing is not always the answer, RJ," Charon replied. "Only sometimes. When you're lucky." Flashing the kid a violent grin, he floored the gas and the vehicle squealed, dirt flying beneath the wheels, as they took off for Agatha's house.

* * *

Agatha slid her bow over the strings of the Soil Stradivarius, losing herself in the delicate, lilting sound that the violin wept through her empty home. It was lonely without Ernst, sure enough, but with the music swelling like fire around her heart, if she closed her eyes, she could still see his smile as he listened to her play, hear his muted voice cheering her on.

A firm knock on her door cut through the spell of the music. She gently set her violin down onto her table, stood up, smoothed over her dress, and crossed to open the door.

"Well, if it isn't an old friend," Agatha remarked fondly as she took in Charon's tall form in her doorway. "Come in, come in! It's always a pleasure."

Charon nodded in polite thanks and ducked into her small shack. RJ glanced around in curiosity as he followed suit.

"My, my, you certainly look a little worn out from your travels," Agatha sang, moving to her stove. "Would you like some tea? A little brahmin steak, maybe?"

"No, thank you." Charon gestured at RJ beside him. "Agatha, this is . . . my son, RJ."

"Ooh, a son!" Her wrinkled face brightened into a smile as she took RJ's hand and shook it in earnest pleasure. "Oh, so good to meet you, darling. I never knew you and Leah had a family."

"We do now." Charon smiled at the warm, old woman. He stroked his chin, doing his best to figure out what words to use. If only he had Leah's charisma! "Agatha . . . I seem to remember seeing a very rare .44 magnum in your possession when last we met."

"Indeed you did, my dear," Agatha said, whisking over to the ammo box beneath her bed. She dragged it out with a grunt, frail hands sifting through the boxes of ammunition within. Finally she gave a soft, "A-ha!" and stood up, holding the gun out in her hands. "The Blackhawk. It used to be my husband, Ernst's. When he passed on, I had no need for it. Nobody ever ventures near enough for me to have to use a weapon. I'm afraid I'm too weak to use it anyways," she confessed with a sad smile. "Why do you ask, Charon?"

He and RJ exchanged a glance. The boy shrugged as if to say _Go for it._

Charon cleared his throat. "My anniversary with Leah is fast approaching and I believe that she would love nothing more than to receive that weapon as a gift. Is there anything I might do for you to warrant a trade?"

Agatha's eyes lit up mischievously. "You're sweet, too sweet, really," she cooed, patting Charon on the shoulder. "I will gladly give you this ol' thing if you can manage to find me more sheet music to compose on. I'm afraid I've quite run out of the old books I have laying around the house. You might find some in the same place that you and Leah found the violin."

"Consider it done, Agatha," Charon promised, gesturing RJ toward the door. Agatha opened it for them as they made to leave. "We'll be back by tonight."

"Don't go getting yourselves hurt over it!" she cried in concern as they retreated across the wooden bridge to the truck. "An old woman's heart couldn't bear the grief!"

Charon shot her a grin over his shoulder. "It's no problem, Agatha."

The old woman smiled shrewdly. "You'd do anything for that woman, wouldn't you, dear?"

He simply winked and leapt up into the cab. Agatha watched them drive away with a smile.

* * *

"Leah used to live in one of these?" RJ asked in a wavering voice.

"Unfortunately, yes," Charon said, clutching his shotgun close. "Leah and I cleared this place out, but it's been a while and this Vault door doesn't close. Be ready for anything."

RJ nodded and pulled out his assault rifle. "Right."

They proceeded carefully through the old, rusted hallways. Charon led the way down a staircase labeled _Living Quarters_. The heavy thudding of feet on metal alerted him to a presence in the hallways ahead. He thrust an arm out to stop RJ and jerked his head forward. _Be ready._

RJ lifted his rifle to his shoulder. The two of them crept silently down the rest of the hallway. When they turned the corner, two mirelurks caught sight of them with a loud screech. The beasts started running for them.

"The face! Aim for the face!" Charon roared, pumping the nearest one twice in the eyes.

RJ exhaled swiftly and let loose a barrage of bullets into the second. It shrieked in pain and reared back as Charon killed the first. RJ quickly reloaded and finished the second off with two more shots to the face.

Charon clapped him on the back as the beast fell dead to the ground. "Good job."

RJ grinned in pride. "Thanks, gramps. Let's get that book. It's creepy as shit down here."

They found the music sheet book in a bedroom off the main hallway, after three more mirelurks. They were just turning to leave when there was a high-pitched howl. Charon cursed and shoved RJ behind him. "Mirelurk king. Stay back."

The seven foot monster tore around the corner, huge legs making the ground quake beneath them. It lifted its head and screamed just before Charon could shoot it, the sound attacking their eardrums. RJ fell to his knees, covering his ears with a shout at the sudden ache.

Gritting his teeth past the pain, Charon shot the king in the face. His mouth and jaw crippled, it could no longer continue its loud shrieking, giving Charon the opportunity to get closer and blast it straight to the chest. It swung a large arm at him in vain as it stumbled backward.

Charon ducked with a curse.

"Pops, get back!"

The ghoul glanced up to see RJ pull the pin from a frag grenade with his teeth. Charon threw himself out of the way as he lobbed the grenade. It rolled right beneath the beast's feet and exploded just as Charon managed to roll behind a nearby door.

They waited for the loud noise to stop ringing in their ears before moving. Charon ducked out from behind the door. He turned to RJ with a wicked grin. "Not a bad throw. Not bad at all."

"No big," RJ said with a casual shrug, but he was smiling in appreciation. "She better fuckin' like this gun, though, gramps. This shit just ain't worth it."

* * *

"What do you think?" Lucy held up the object in question with a shy smile.

"It's pretty!" Bumble cried, running her fingers over the curves and dips.

"Good job, Luce!"

"Thanks, Knock – er, Sue." Lucy smiled apologetically.

Sue laughed. "No big deal. It'll take some getting used to. But ever since Nick changed his name, 'Nick and Knock Knock' just sounds stupid."

The girls all laughed, even Princess where she perched on the desk in the corner. They were locked away in Lucy and Bumble's room, where there was no chance of Leah finding them or the gift they were putting together for her.

"Do you think she'll like it?" Bumble asked, brown eyes wide with hope.

"She'd be stupid not to," Princess promised. "It's beautiful."

"I never thought Charon could be so sweet," Lucy admitted with a giggle. She set down Leah's gift and pulled a hair band from her pocket, swiftly tying her dark hair up into a ponytail. "When he told me the idea, I almost didn't believe it."

"There are probably a lot of things about him we don't know," Sue speculated. "I mean, he is like . . . two hundred years old."

"That's true." Lucy chewed thoughtfully on a thumbnail, hazel eyes flashing to her sisters. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Didn't he used to be a mercenary?"

"I thought he was in the army."

"Wait, wasn't he some kind of combat trainer?"

Bumble shook her head, drawing the other girls' attention. "Leah told me once. He used to be a slave."

There was a hushed silence, filled with sadness and regret. They all met each others' gazes and, at that moment, the very same thought echoed between them.

_It's a sick fucking world._

* * *

Bannon's eyes were skeptical as he counted out the caps to make sure he'd received the correct amount. One hundred caps. Just as he'd asked.

His eyes flicked up to watch the ghoul and kid walk away through the Rivet City marketplace. What a ghoul needed a three-piece suit for, Bannon had no fuckin' clue, but caps were caps.

_And at least I didn't get my nose broken this time._

"Did Leah really punch that guy out?"

"You bet your ass she did."

"I hope you rock her world tomorrow night, gramps."

Charon shot him a look so primal and possessive that it made RJ nervous _for_ Leah. "Sleep with your door closed. Because you will be able to hear her scream from the top floor."

* * *

It was well past midnight by the time Charon and RJ returned to Tenpenny. Charon shooed him off to bed and wearily climbed the steps to the second floor. He knocked at the third door tentatively.

"Lucy? You still up?"

"Yeah, hold on!" She appeared in a few seconds, pulling the door open to expose what appeared to be a slumber party between all of the girls. She grinned. "What's up?"

"Is everything, erm, ready for tomorrow?" Charon felt nervous with all of the girls giggling and staring at him.

"You bet. We've got it covered. There's no need to worry," Lucy reassured him with a mischievous smile.

Charon rubbed the back of his neck and nodded awkwardly at them. "Oh-kay, then. Good night, girls." He pulled the door closed, but not before hearing them burst into laughter. He hightailed it for the elevator, shaking his head.

Women.

* * *

"It's amazing, Leah. Where'd you find it?"

"This random guy living in a burnt out church. Northwest, near Raven Rock. Do you think he'll like it?"

"Honey, he'll like it."

"And . . . what about the second part?"

A low, dusty chuckle, red lips curled up into a knowing smile. "He'll _love_ it."

* * *

Charon stepped out of the elevator just as Leah was closing the door to Gob and Nova's suite behind her. Their eyes locked in surprise across the lobby.

It was times like these, after a long day of mirelurks and gunshots, when his mind was miles away and his body was tired, that seeing Leah shocked him to the core, just as it had done the very first time he saw her.

Thin bridge of a nose sweeping out to pale cheekbones, eyes shockingly blue. They narrowed the tiniest bit as she smiled at him. Seeing her now, like this, slender body outlined in faded blue cotton, black hair pulled back over her shoulders in messy waves, it was like a cool glass of water after a long day in the Wasteland heat. It was a _relief_, seeing her beauty.

Leah couldn't help smiling at the appreciation in his eyes. "What were you up to all day?"

The loving expression quickly gave way to a poker face. "Errands," he answered shortly, turning and opening the door to their suite. He held it open for her, shuddering when her warm fingertips grazed his collarbone as she passed.

Leah was already sliding down the straps of her dress as he closed the door. The blue material pooled at her feet, leaving her only in her black underwear. She glanced once over her shoulder to see that he was, indeed, paying rapt attention to her body. With a smile, she lowered herself onto the bed and patted the spot beside her. "Let's go to sleep."

He unbuckled his belts and dropped them onto the nearest shelf, smiling. "Sleep? Are you sure?" He yanked the rest of his armor from his body and let his pants sag to the floor.

"I'm quite sure," she laughed as he kneeled onto the bed at her feet.

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that," he rumbled, crawling his way up her body. His lips grazed her skin at each hip bone before he showered her stomach with kisses.

"Don't tempt me," she murmured. "I want to save it for tomorrow."

Charon groaned, holding himself above her with an impatient scowl. Leah squirmed, trying to ignore how good he felt against her, the warm smell of leather, long arms thick with muscle on either side of her face. Her slender fingers wrapped around his wrists and she craned her neck up to kiss his forearm. "Your patience is appreciated," she hinted breathlessly.

"Tease," he mumbled into her shoulder, nipping the skin there. "It will feel just as good tomorrow if we do it tonight. Maybe even better."

Leah snorted and knuckled the inside of his elbow, making his arm give out and forcing him to roll onto his side next to her. "No dice, you slithery ghoul. You'll just have to wait until tomorrow night. Trust me," she added, kissing him. "It'll be worth it."

"If it's not," he threatened with a smirk, "we'll just have to try again and again until it is. Deal?"

"I'll take that bet."

* * *

**Huge thank you's to everyone who's read and reviewed so far! Pattyn, you're my hero and that's a fact.**

**ManInAMask: I had lots of fun writing their conversation haha. Nothing like a little witty banter to lighten the time between disasters, right?**

**Anastasia: I love a good catfight, too, but I let Charon have his chance to do something sweet. You know, just killin' a bitch in the middle of the night... adorable haha. Also, I love Herbert Dashwood. Mostly because he's like the only dude in the game who's all gung-ho about ghouls. I thought that was awesome. I was hesitant to tell him Argyle was dead, but he had to know the truth!**

**DaLover: I live for awkward manhugs baha! Thank you for all the lovely words you always have to give. It makes each chapter that much better to post. That goes for all of you, really! Thank you!**


	14. Let's Go Lose Ourselves

**All right, guys: this is officially my longest chapter ever! I hope you enjoy it - I stayed up 'til 5:30 in the morning to finish writing it haha.**

**As always, the shower of thank you's: Pattyn, DaLover, ManInAMask, and Anastasia, your reviews keep me warm on cold days. This chapter is for you guys. I get the feeling you might like it? ;)**

**The title for this chapter is from Early Winters' "Spanish Burn." Need I say that I wrote this chapter to this song?**

**

* * *

**

_Doubt thou the stars are fire,_

_Doubt that the sun doth move,_

_Doubt truth to be a liar,_

_But never doubt I love._

_- Hamlet (2.2 124-127)_

_

* * *

_

Leah woke up well-rested, comfortable, and smiling. She wasn't much given to ever remembering her dreams; even rarer did she have ones that actually made sense. Closing her eyes, she curled her fingers into the bed sheets and did her best to throw herself back into the pleasant images.

_Her father, twirling her around with a laugh. A white dress, flowing and long. The kids, mouths stretched wide into the biggest smiles she'd ever seen. _

_And Charon. _

"_I love you."_

"I love you."

She jerked in shock as a warm arm slithered around her waist, pulling her back into an equally warm chest. Hearing the same words spoken in the same, raspy voice as her dream was a jarring sensation. Struggling as she was tangled up in the sheets, Leah grunted in her attempts to rotate and look her ghoul in the face. His low, throaty chuckle behind her wasn't helping. Finally, frustrated, she kicked the blankets off entirely. Moving freely, she flopped over onto her other side and came face-to-face with the love of her life.

"Hi," she announced, out-of-breath from her spontaneous morning exercise.

Charon's answering smile was breathtaking. She traced his lips with a fingertip as she reminisced, vividly remembering a time where he would have preferred cutting a hand off to actually _smiling_ in front of her. Of gruff rejections and an at least five-foot-long radius of personal space. Reluctant recognition of a slowly blooming friendship. Being strangled and then abandoned.

A burning reunion . . . and the flames that burn set off.

Leah took his hand and kissed the rough pad of each fingertip. Charon watched her in mild amusement. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, voice croaky from misuse. Blue eyes wheeled up to meet his as she pressed his palm to her cheek.

"What have you done now, smoothskin? Surely you couldn't have committed too many sins while we slept," he teased, stroking her cheekbone beneath his thumb.

She frowned, eyes a million miles away. "I'm sorry for not telling you I bought your contract."

One ruined eyebrow arched in surprise. He would never understand her. She looked genuinely upset about it. "Leah . . . I think we have gotten over that particular incident by now."

"Well," she mused, nibbling her lower lip guiltily. "I'll never stop feeling sorry for leaving you."

"Also something that happened many years ago, smoothskin," he dismissed with a frown. He pushed himself up onto his hands and laced his fingers through the long strands of her hair, whisking them out of her face. "Why are you bringing this up now? I forgive you for everything. How could I not?"

"You've been so good to me," Leah explained, her brow furrowed as she mulled over her own emotions. A curtain of black hair swung back over her shoulder as she looked up at him. "For four years, you've made me the happiest Vault Girl in the entire Wasteland. And I –,"

Charon clamped a hand firmly over her mouth. "And you have given me more than I could ever imagine." His eyes were tight, lips set in a small line as he regarded her earnestly. "Leah, I was a slave for my entire life. I killed and tortured and obeyed whomever my master instructed me to. My past is dark. For the longest time, I was convinced that it had ruined me." His expression softened and he sighed. "You taught me otherwise. Now would you please not start the day of our anniversary off with this rubbish? I will start to get annoyed."

Leah rolled up onto her knees and shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. "I'm sor –,"

Charon glared at her.

"I mean, my bad," she correct with a grin and he nodded, mollified. "What's the plan, Stan?"

He waited past a yawn to reply, back arching as he stretched his arms above his head. "I believe the children had it all planned out for us."

"Did they really?" Leah snorted in mild disbelief. "Imagine that."

"Indeed."

She threw her legs over the edge of the bed and leapt excitedly to her feet, her mood swinging around 180 degrees. She couldn't resist a smile as she started collecting their clothes. "I wonder what those little boogers have up their sleeves," she speculated giddily, tossing him his shirt.

"Oh, I know what they are up to," Charon replied easily, punching his arms through the sleeves.

Leah froze, gaping at him incredulously. "You do? And I don't?"

He grinned, holding a hand out for his pants.

"Get your own damned clothes! That's not fair!" she announced hotly, stuffing herself into fresh clothing for the day.

He pinched his lips together to keep from laughing, but the shaking of his chest was a dead giveaway. His hands shot up to indicate his innocence as Leah lobbed his pants at him. "Thank you, dearest love of mine," he chimed teasingly, getting to his feet.

Leah tried to be more indignant as she watched him shove each muscular leg into his pants, but there was simply no denying how much she fucking loved him. Damn ghoul meant the world to her and being mad at him was simply impossible.

Lucky him.

That didn't mean she couldn't grumble dramatically to herself as she swept up her brush from a shelf and began running it callously through her hair.

"I have a question for you, Lone Wanderer," Charon's arrogant voice declared.

She turned to glare at him and jumped a little when she discovered that he was standing inches away from her. "And what would that be?" she snarked.

He smirked. "To shower, or not to shower? That is the question."

"When did you ever pick up Shakespeare?" Leah asked in genuine curiosity. She grimaced when her brush found a kink in her hair.

Charon slipped the plastic handle from her grip and began to run it expertly through her dark tresses, gently disentangling any knot that dared to get in his way. Leah closed her eyes, leaning back into his ministrations with a smile. "I wanted something to pass the time between life-risking missions. While we were at the Citadel, I raided their library. I picked out the interesting titles and stowed them away for idle times." He made a small, thoughtful noise in his throat. "I guess you can say that reading is a habit I picked up from you."

She hummed in appreciation. "I like a man that reads to pass the time. . . . I also like a man who knows how to handle a hairbrush. My father used to do this for me."

"I am happy to take up the job." They continued on like that for some interminable amount of time, Leah basking in Charon's loving attention, murmuring sweet nothings of gratitude with each pass of the brush through her hair. When he was satisfied that all tangles had been eradicated, he set the brush down onto the table and turned her around.

Leah's smile was enough to make his heart skip a beat. "Thank you."

Charon was just leaning down to kiss her when the door to their suite swung open with a loud bang. They broke apart, Charon growling as he shoved Leah protectively behind his body.

"It's just me, gramps," RJ announced with a mocking smile. "Save those kisses for later and say goodbye. You're being evicted for the day, Leah."

"You _can't_ be serious," she groaned in a tone inching dangerously close to a whine. "It's my anniversary day! You can't kick me out!"

"Too late." RJ hitched a thumb commandingly over his shoulder. "Toot it and boot it, mungo!"

Leah turned back to Charon with pleading eyes. He chuckled and tucked her hair behind an ear. "Sorry, smoothskin. You heard the mayor."

"Fine," she grumbled, tugging him by the collar into a farewell kiss. "I'll be back."

"I'll be waiting," he promised. She pulled away and started gathering belongings. He watched her yank up her bag and slide her Xuanlong rifle and a few frag grenades inside. After a second's thought, she pulled out a green book from her shelf. She flashed the cover at him with a smile.

_Hamlet._

And then she was sliding out of the door and RJ was reassuring him that he and the rest of the children "had this shit covered."

As he rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly, Charon couldn't help feeling like he had no idea what he'd gotten himself into. But, if anything was, Leah was worth it.

* * *

"God damn it, RJ! Unhand me! I'm not gonna go running back to him; we're in the elevator, for god's sake. There's nowhere to run _to_."

"Just making sure everything goes as planned, mungo," RJ informed her, a big hand clenched around her left bicep. "Besides," he added sheepishly, grinning sidelong at her, "If you somehow fuck things up, Lucy will rip me a new asshole."

Leah's expression softened understandably. "A formidable thought indeed," she agreed after a moment's consideration.

"Yeah, so pipe down and let us do our thing. You won't regret it, I promise." He stood at rapt attention as the elevator doors dinged open.

Lucy and Bumble were already there, hands identically cocked on their hips. Lucy smiled commandingly. "Morning, Leah! Ready to be whisked away for a day full of pointless tasks to stall you until we've prepared everything?"

Leah chuckled in appreciation, jerking her arm free from RJ's to give Bumble a tight hug. "I guess so, Luce."

"Good. RJ?"

"I've got the keys from pop. We're ready to go."

"_You're_ driving me?" Leah asked, affecting wariness. "I-I dunno, then. . . ."

"Oh, can it, Leah. I'm a great driver. Gramps taught me himself. Now come _on_." He shot Lucy an encouraging nod before towing Leah out into the scorching heat of a Wasteland summer. She allowed him to stuff her up into the cab. She settled comfortably into the passenger seat as he clambered in.

"You brought a _book_?" he demanded, spotting the copy of _Hamlet_ that she tugged out of her book to entertain her during the ride. He rolled his eyes, starting the car. "You are _such_ a geek, you know that?"

Leah smiled, running her hand over the book's cover. It had a whole new meaning now knowing that Charon had read it, too. "I am," she agreed, smacking him on the shoulder hard enough to make him cry out. "But I'm also the smartest motherfucker you'll find out here in this shithole."

"Not gonna deny that one, mungo. Now sit down, shut up, and hold on." He revved the engine ominously. Leah let out a trill of laughter as RJ floored it.

They really seemed to have a handle on things. Smiling fondly as the wind whipped her hair back from her face, Leah followed RJ's advice with one amendment: instead of holding on, she let go of any worry she had about the day. It was all going to turn out just fine.

* * *

Charon was just idly picking up random living debris from the floor when the door was, once again, slammed open. He straightened, thoroughly annoyed with the entire business.

Lucy stormed in like . . . well, much like a storm. Or a hurricane perhaps. Some kind of deadly natural force. She stopped in the doorway, her arms full with what looked like mountains of cloth. "This place is a mess, Charon!" she yelled furiously.

He recoiled from her anger, nearly dropping all of the things in his arms. "I was working on it," he snapped defensively, putting everything back onto the shelves where they belonged.

"You need to work faster. Bumble! Sue! Princess!"

The three girls came filtering in behind their ringleader.

"Charon needs help cleaning this mess up. Chop, chop, ladies! We don't have all day!"

And that was how Charon found himself surrounded by preteen girls, trapped among their incessant chattering and giggles and so embarrassed that he considered taking his own life with whatever object happened to be in his hands. At the time, it was Leah's hairbrush. He supposed if he jammed the end of it hard enough into one of his eyeballs, it could reach his brain and maybe –

A tap on his arm roused him from his suicidal musings. He glanced down to see Bumble's apologetic smile. "Sorry about all this. Lucy's going crazy about it. But you'll see. It'll be so pretty." Her smile turned devious. "And Leah will love it!"

Charon exhaled a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Glad to hear that, Bumble," he admitted honestly, running a big hand over her dark hair. "Now let's get this room clean before Lucy has a coronary."

"I don't know what that is," Bumble said with a very serious shake of her head, "but it sounds bad."

Charon barked out a deep laugh. Maybe cleaning the room with a bunch of young girls wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

"Rivet City? Are you serious?" Leah called over the ear-numbing roar of the engine.

"Where else are you gonna have all your . . . you know, girly parts done up?" RJ asked in extreme amusement.

"Girly parts? Jesus," Leah muttered to herself with – she had to admit – not a little bit of apprehension. "Is that what you think women do? Get their 'girly parts done?'"

He snorted, rolling the car to a stop near the Jefferson Memorial. Broken building debris prevented them from driving any closer. Leah hopped down onto the asphalt with her rifle held in hand. It had been too long since she'd seen any real action.

RJ seemed to be thinking the same thing as he fell into line beside her, his assault rifle waiting patiently in his hands. "I know it for a fact. Have you seen how long it takes Princess to get ready in the morning? Ridiculous."

Leah snorted as they proceeded around the corner. A vicious, feral roar alerted them to the presence of two super mutants on their left. She slid a grenade from her pocket and lobbed it in their general direction, pocketing the pin for a later addition to her necklace. "You _are_ talking about Princess!" she reminded him loudly over the clatter of gunshots as they marched in on the mutants. "She's not exactly your average female!"

"Thank God for that!" RJ cackled in wild bloodlust as he downed the first mutant. "My kill, bitch!"

Leah rushed up behind him, kicked the back of a knee so that his legs gave out, and quickly splattered the last mutant with her own bullets. He whimpered as he crumpled to his death. She smirked down at RJ and held out a hand to help him up.

He grumbled, climbing to his feet on his own. "You're fuckin' sneaky. That one doesn't count if you play dirty."

"It's the Wasteland, big guy. There's no other way to get shit done." She slid her rifle onto her back and laughed at his scowl. "Now lead the way, Mayor MacCready." She followed him as he marched arrogantly toward the old, rusted boat with uncommon familiarity. Her eyes narrowed shrewdly. "You've been here before, haven't you?" she demanded.

RJ glanced at her, face reddening nervously. "Maybe I have. Get off my fuckin' back!"

"Charon brought you here! A-ha!"

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Look, Leah, stop tryin' to figure shit out and just let the old man surprise you for once. He worked his ass off for all this shit."

Leah fell silent. She smiled sheepishly at him. He'd really grown up. It was hard to see sometimes past the curse words and victory dances, but he'd certainly grown into his own man. "Consider me taught."

"Good. Ladies first." He gestured her up the metal staircase and she took them two at a time, remembering sliding down the banister to a very grumpy Charon and making a crass joke about how large the stick up his ass must be. Her lips curled up into a reminiscent smile. It quickly disappeared as she realized the next landing was empty. "Where the hell is Carlos?" she muttered in shock.

"Who's Carlos?" RJ asked without really caring, striding past her.

Leah frowned, but fell into step beside her. They crossed the bridge, but she stopped the second they reached the other side. "Excuse me," she greeted the guard at the main entrance, "but where did the beggar across the bridge go?"

The guard raised a brow above his shades at her. "Last I heard, he made his way to the Memorial to help the Brotherhood out with Project Purity. I assume he's livin' better there than he ever was on that bridge."

It was in far better spirits that Leah entered Rivet City. This day was just getting better and better. She twirled through the familiar faces, stopping to give Flak a friendly punch to the shoulder.

Bannon spotted her and nearly called out to ask about that ghoul of hers, but decided against it when RJ gave him a withering glare and reached meaningfully for the pistol at his hip. Wasn't fuckin' worth it.

"Bryan!"

"Leah!"

A preteen boy shouldered through the crowds and gave her a big hug. "Wow, it's been years!"

"It has. God, you're big," Leah said with a shake of her head. "You're making me feel old here, Bryan."

He laughed, his voice deepened and full. "It's nice here. I never got to thank you for getting me this place. Vera's taught me a lot."

"Don't sweat it, kid." She waved his thanks away with a brush of her slender hand. "It was nothing."

"What are you doing here?" he asked curiously.

"Apparently, getting all prettied up," Leah said with a flush. "It's my anniversary today, so I have to look beautiful."

"Aw, I always thought you were pretty, Leah." Bryan blushed, too. "Good luck with everything. Um, congrats! That's what you say, right?"

Leah hugged him goodbye and watched him scamper off fondly.

"Another wretched soul you saved?" RJ pestered her with a smile.

"You bet."

He frowned absentmindedly. "Now where is – a-ha!" He spotted a glint of gold hair and grabbed Leah by the wrist, dragging her toward Gary's Galley. "Angela!"

The girl's head whipped up and she spotted them, lips breaking out into a grin. "RJ. Leah. Good to see you, too." She slid her pad of paper into her pocket and dusted her hands free of crumbs. "I've been told I have a makeover to give."

Leah sent RJ a crippling glare, but did not disagree. "That's right, I suppose."

Angela smiled. "After what you did for me and Diego? I certainly owe you one. Come on, girl! Let's go!" She took Leah by the hand and led her up the stairs toward mid-ship.

"I'll kill you for this, RJ!" Leah called over her shoulder as she was whisked away.

"Yeah, yeah," the brat replied with a smirk. "See you when you're pretty!"

The metal door slammed shut behind her before she could shout a few very choice words back.

* * *

Charon paced back and forth in the lobby, considering rewrapping Leah's gifts for the fifth time. Nova stopped him with a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Re_lax_, Charon," she ordered firmly, "you're putting _way_ too much thought into this."

"I am just uncertain," he shot back, shaking his head wildly and gesturing at the two presents stacked on the desk in the middle of the lobby. "Bow or no bow?"

"That's the gayest thing I've ever heard you say," Gob admitted, leaning against a nearby pillar. He grinned as Charon growled and cursed at him. "Now _there's_ the Charon I know! Stop worrying and go do something productive, like help Margaret bake, or help Éclair cook, or help the girls set up, or –,"

"I've _tried_ to do all of that," Charon snapped, cutting him off as he rubbed his temples. "They all shut me out!"

"Then sit back on your ass and let someone else do the work for once," Nova sighed, throwing her arms up into the air in exasperation. "Jeez, you think it'd be _easy_ not doing anything!"

"It is _Charon_ we're talking about here," Gob reminded her with a snort of laughter. "You can't underestimate his ability to take absolutely anything out of proportion."

"I am in an extremely delicate position at the moment," Charon told them coldly, "and if you continue to goad me, I cannot be held responsible for any of my actions, which may or may not include throttling you to death, Gob." He glanced up at Nova. "And why didn't you go with Leah? She probably could have used the . . . womanly company."

"You men really have no idea how women work, do you?" Nova demanded with an annoyed frown. "Leah is to know as little about any of this as possible and I'm horrible at keeping things like this secret. It's best she goes with RJ. They'll be in and out and on their way home any minute now."

"Five o' clock, people!" Lucy's voice shrieked from the restaurant to their left. "Leah will be back any second! Let's get this show on the road! Princess, are you finished with the elevator? Sue, get that tray out of the oven! Bumble, I've told you a million times –,"

The three adults exchanged one long, exhausted look.

"On second thought," Charon exhaled wearily, "perhaps it _is_ best I sit this one out."

* * *

Angela was a pro, there was no doubt about it. She had Leah plopped down in a chair, in front of a mirror and what could have been hundreds of bottles and brushes and jars. The blonde shooed Diego hurriedly out of the room and started uncapping the containers, blue eyes whizzing around in calculation.

"I think it's really sweet all the trouble he's gone through," Angela cooed, taking a brush to Leah's face and applying some sweet-smelling powder to her skin. "I mean, really, if Diego went through all this effort, I'd be over the moon."

"You're right. It's awfully nice of him." Leah smiled fondly. "I plan on making it up to him tonight."

"Ooh," Angela giggled, picking up a small jar filled with what looked like red clay. "And you'll look great while doing it, let me assure you."

Her door opened, followed by the sound of boots on metal. "Poindexter? The fuck you doin' here?"

"God damn it, Butch," Leah snapped through gritted teeth. "Getting a makeover, what does it look like? Now get out of here before I skin your sorry hide."

"You'll do no such thing," Angela cautioned, touching her shoulder warningly. "Or else it'll get everywhere and you'll be screwed."

"Why are you getting a makeover?" Butch demanded, exasperated. "You've never been the make-up type."

"For Charon. It's our anniversary."

"Oh, fuck me sideways," the Tunnel Snake grumbled to himself. "Forget I asked. I'm gonna go get plastered and wish I'd never seen this."

"Good. Get!" Angela waved him out with a desperate flap of her hand. He slammed the door fitfully behind him. "Men," she snorted as if it were an everyday occurrence. "What're ya gonna do?"

Leah found herself actually giggling in response. "You're a hell of a girl, Angela. You know that?"

Angela's eyes met hers in the mirror and the blonde smirked. "Right back at you, Vault Girl."

* * *

Leah stepped cautiously into the atrium, glancing around for any signs of life. The glow from the lights seemed overly golden tonight. It might've just been her nerves, but she had the faint inkling that Lucy had somehow managed to shine the light bulbs in her absence. Who knew with that girl?

"Anyone there?" She skirted around Gustavo's old desk, frowning when she got no response. She nearly missed the decorations until she almost stepped on one. She leapt back and stared down in disbelief.

Paper flowers of every color lined the tile behind the desk, illustrating a path to the elevator. Evidently the children had a lot more up their sleeves than she'd initially anticipated. Barely registering the sound of RJ taking off in the truck outside, Leah picked her way through the delicately constructed flowers. With amused interest, she scooped a couple of them up and cupped them lovingly in her palms. Red and white, contrasting sharply against each other in perfectly sharp angles. She tucked the red one above her ear and pressed the button to summon the elevator. She hummed to herself in an attempt to squash the nerves coursing through her body. Truthfully, she felt like she was going on a first date. Ridiculous, really. It was just _Charon_.

When the elevator doors opened with a _ding_, all thoughts were scattered from her mind.

Multicolored string lights like the ones from Little Lamplight were hung around the walls of the elevator. Two bright red, custom-made heels were lined up right in the middle, a rectangular box in front of them with a note that read, in Nova's looping letters, _Open me first!_

And above those hung the beautiful red dress Charon had gotten her.

_God damn it, Lucy is amazing._

Leah stepped into the elevator with a nervous smile. Once the doors had closed, she pressed the button for the top floor and quickly undressed, careful not to mess up her hair or the pounds of make-up caked onto her face. To say that Angela had gone overboard would have been an understatement. She obeyed Nova's note and opened the rectangular box first.

_Ah_. She recognized the second part of her gift for Charon with pink cheeks. She donned that first before gently pulling her dress from a hanger locked around a bar build into the ceiling. The material felt cool and light as feathers against her skin as it draped almost lovingly from her shoulders. The halter top fit perfectly around her neck. Leah then looked down at the heels, smiling fondly.

_I knew Lucy's foot massage was shady. Who uses measuring tape when giving a foot massage? That sneaky little tramp._

Deciding she'd take the preteen out for a shopping spree at Rivet City someday in the future, Leah slid her feet into the heels. They fit perfectly. Of course.

The elevator doors opened just in time. She swallowed anxiously and stepped out into the lobby. Her shoes clacking pleasantly against the tile, she followed yet another pathway of paper flowers to her suite room. She paused with her fingers curled around the doorknob, taking deep breaths to soothe her wild heartbeat.

_It's just Charon._

She pushed the door open.

The very first thing that registered in her mind was that it smelled _wonderful_. Her eyes flickered first to the round table in the middle of the room. It was normally cluttered with weapons and books and other day-to-day essentials. Those had all been tucked away for the night and instead a white cloth had been draped over the table. It was set for two, complete with matching (albeit chipped) plates, glasses, and utensils. A bottle of old wine nestled comfortably between two long candles and a small arrangement of yet more paper flowers in the middle of the table.

When she was finished taking all of that in, Leah acknowledged the sets of colored lights that were strewn around her bedroom as well. They set a soft glow about the room; it allowed the fluorescents to be off with still enough light to illuminate the room.

Finally, once all of that was set in her mind, Leah lifted her gaze to the ghoul leaning so patiently against the bookshelf.

Her jaw dropped.

A three-piece suit had never looked so fucking good. The black coat tapered down to the best-pressed pair of slacks you could find in the entire Wasteland. Leah licked her lips as she reluctantly dragged her eyes away from his body. When she met his gaze, a flicker of concern went through her body.

Charon appeared to be having an aneurysm.

The glow from the lanterns and candles made her skin shine. Slender arms laced nervously behind her back, black hair cascading to her shoulders in delicate curls, Leah stepped toward him. Some smoky powder colored her eyelids and her lips were brightened with a red to match her dress.

_That dress._

It looked more beautiful on her than he'd ever imagined it would. When he'd jokingly suggested she try it on for him on her last birthday, they'd never gotten the chance. They'd barely made it through the door before they tumbled to the floor and into each other's arms. But now, _now_, adoringly accommodating her curves, it suited her to a T. He noted with a smile that she'd placed one of the children's red flowers behind an ear. That, too, matched her dress.

They stood there for seconds, minutes, hours, who knew how long, just worshipping each other with their eyes. As was usual, Leah was the first to break the silence – however, compared to her normal eloquence, tonight her icebreaker left a bit to be desired.

"You look . . . you're . . . I feel like – oh, wow," she sighed, giving up on the whole 'speaking' idea altogether. She exhaled shakily, red lips parting around white teeth in a smile.

Charon adopted a knowing smile, apparently pleased with her reaction. His eyes were alight with excitement and, as he rolled his gaze up her body, barely contained desire. "I think I understand how you feel, smoothskin," he croaked. Extending a hand, he laced his fingers through hers and pulled her close, into his arms. He ducked his forehead against hers, breathing hard. She smelled even more amazing than usual. Some light, floral scent. Lilac, maybe, but he'd never been good with scents. "You are the most beautiful woman I will ever see," he whispered.

Leah's breath hitched. "You look so damn good right now," she murmured, not wanting to ruin the moment with anything higher than a breath's volume. "You think _I'm_ beautiful? Have you seen yourself yet tonight?"

"I have, and I can assure you that I am more along the lines of 'debonair' and 'winsome than 'beautiful,' my smoothskin."

Her silky laugh was a shock to his nerves as she tapped his collarbone with a fingertip – all of which were stained bright red, he noticed with a smile. "I'll give you that one, Charon. Winsome and debonair, indeed."

He reluctantly released her to pull out a chair. She took the seat with a smile of gratitude and he scooted her in before taking his own on the other side.

"Wow," she breathed, eyeing the heaps of food set out on the table. "Éclair really went all out, didn't he?"

Charon snorted, an action that was common enough to ease some of her nerves. "I wish you would have seen him. I've never seen him happier. He was the only person not tearing hear out under Lucy's tyranny."

Leah laughed as he popped open the wine bottle and poured them glasses. "I'm glad I missed _that_ one. I'd rather face a deathclaw than Lucy when she doesn't get her way."

"Agreed."

They held up their glasses to toast. Their eyes locked across the table and the air suddenly thickened, abruptly filled with so much sexual tension that it was stifling. A bead of anxious sweat rolled down over her collarbone. Charon's eyes tracked the motion like his life depended on it. They set down their glasses at the same time.

"You look . . . great in that dress," Charon grunted gruffly, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

"We're not going to eat this dinner," Leah confessed throatily with a shake of her head, curls bouncing softly with the movement.

"I was hoping for Éclair's sake we'd at least get to the brahmin steak before it got cold," he groaned as they stood up from their chairs, completely unaware of the loud scrape of the wooden legs on tile. He crossed around the table and yanked her against his chest, a growl rolling in his throat, "but it's just not going to happen."

"We'll eat later," she promised as their lips met. Her breath hitched against his lips as he pulled her up into his arms. She pushed against his chest, sending their bodies knocking violently into the bookshelf. Books and various possessions rained down over them as Leah tugged desperately at Charon's tie. "Oh, God, why did you wear a tie?" she moaned, finally loosing it from around his neck.

"Wanted to look good for you," he choked out as she began on his buttons. A few of them popped out in her urgency, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. Not when her hot mouth lavished the skin that she was quickly exposing from behind his shirt. Having decided that things just weren't going fast enough, he gripped the material and ripped it with one violent jerk, scattering buttons all over the room.

Leah cried out as he found her mouth again and swung her upward. She locked her thighs around his waist, pushing the remains of his shirt from his body. Her fingernails dug so deliciously into his shoulders as he carried her in the general direction of the bed. When his shins hit the footboard, he laid her out onto the bed sheets. She giggled as she bounced to a stop, blue eyes flashing up at him. Her hands trailed behind her neck and untied the knot holding the dress it. It fell down over her chest, allowing future access to her body beneath it.

_Thank God._ If her body continued to be hidden from him for any longer, he might have had a heart attack. Clamping his hands around her ankles, he dragged her body toward him. She shrieked in wild excitement. Charon rested her legs vertically against his body as he yanked out his belt with quick, jerking movements.

Leah sucked a finger into her mouth, red tongue darting out to run sensually over the tip of it.

Charon groaned as his knees nearly gave out. He unbuckled his pants and decided the rest could wait until later – _he_ _had to touch her now_. He scooped her body up and dropped her higher up on the bed so that he could kneel in front of her. His feral snarl sent shivers up her spine as she propped herself up on her elbows, fingers toying with the rim of her dress. He bunched his hands at the material around her hips and shimmied it downward. He'd gotten it to about her knees when he looked back up at her body – and froze.

The red corset urged the curves of her breasts close together, black stripes running like ribs around the material. It tapered around her thin waist before flaring out for her hips – around which clung a pair of underwear so tiny that you'd be hard pressed to really call it underwear at all.

But it was so, so, _so_ worth wearing to see the look on his face. She'd felt self-conscious putting it on at first, but his expression empowered her completely. She slid her legs from the rest of her dress, seeing that his hands were now completely motionless. Her gaze flickered up to his as she closed her legs around his hips, a nonverbal command to _come closer._

It was then that Charon seemed to recall how to move. If the bulge rubbing deliciously against her center was any indication, he quite enjoyed her choice of underwear tonight. She raked her fingernails down his chest, urging him closer with her thighs. He caught himself on his hands above her and captured her mouth, his kiss urgent, hungry, desperate, primal, everything she wanted it to be and _more_.

"God damn it, Charon, get those pants off," she pleaded against his lips.

Without a word, he shoved the pants away. _Ooh._ His arousal was _much_ more evident now.

"As much as I _love_ your new wardrobe, smoothskin," he panted, nipping at her neck, "it has to go now." His fingers found the latches on her back and quickly undid them. He tossed the corset aside with flames burning in his eyes, licking up her skin with greedy, passionate heat. "Another time, we may enjoy that further. Not tonight," he declared.

Leah purred her agreement, hoping that the words coming out of her mouth were actually coherent. At this point, she was too far gone to know – or even bring herself to care. His fingers looped around the edges of her thong and yanked that down as well. He let it hang from her ankle. He didn't care where it went, as long as it was out of the way.

"Charon, _please_," she begged, "please – oh!"

He slid a thick finger into her tight heat, savoring the soft mewls that lilted from her lips. Her hips bucked and he added a second finger, easily joining the second in her slick arousal. "I – I need," she gasped, head shaking back and forth, "I need _you_, Charon!"

Despite her words, she seemed to be quite enjoying his hand. He smirked when she moaned in disappointment when he pulled his arm away. He tangled a hand in the black curls of her hair, ensuring that their gazes met before he eased a thigh backward. "I love you," he groaned.

"Love you, too," she panted, grinning wickedly up at him, "now please, I _need you-u-u-oo!_" Her cry rose into a guttural scream as he entered her. Fingers ripping into bed sheets, chest heaving, eyes clenched shut, teeth biting down on her bottom lip, Leah lost herself in the sensation of him _filling her_. "Ooo, _fuck_!"

Charon gaped down at her in complete shock. She was long and lean and so fucking beautiful and it had _never_ felt this fucking _good_ before. Placing his hands under her ass, he pulled her hips toward him to keep her tilted upward. A sharp thrust from this angle had her melting into disjointed sobs. His fingers dug into her flesh as he rolled his hips again, teeth clenched in the absolutely fucking ecstasy of it all.

"I'm gonna – oh, God, I'm –!" Leah's slurred attempt at a sentence broke off into another screech as she became unwound. Her fingernails dug into his biceps, toes curling, teeth almost breaking the skin of her lips as she came so hard colors flashed bright behind her eyelids.

Charon groaned as her walls tightened around him so much it almost _ached_ to pull out and shove back in. _That's one down_, he thought with a delirious grin. Each slap of his hips against hers became more urgent as he pursued her second.

Leah's weight was all supported on her upper back and shoulder, her hips suspended parallel to Charon's. One hand fisted in the sheets, she used the other to yank Charon down and sink her teeth into his shoulder.

He hissed in blind rapture, giving a particularly rough thrust in response. Leah's cry was muffled into his shoulder as she rolled through her second orgasm. Her hold was slipping both in the sheets and on the back of his neck as she struggled to blink past the sweat in her eyes.

"Shit," Charon grunted, ducking his head into her throat. Her smell was intoxicatingly concentrated there, overwhelming his senses. His teeth grazed her neck and she rolled her head to the side to allow him access. The sting of her bite had jolted him onto the road to climax.

"So _good_," Leah panted incoherently, eyes shut tightly as her fingernails bit into his shoulders, "so fucking good, oh, God, don't stop!"

Charon jerked his hips into hers, her heat tight and slick around him, urging him again and again into her. His hands bruised her hips where he gripped her. He threw his head back, a groan getting caught in his throat.

"Ye- yes!" Leah choked out as he hit that spot _just fucking right_ and then she was floating through waves of color and light and sensation in her third orgasm.

Watching her pull at her hair and tremble and quake and feeling her heat clamp down around him was too much for Charon to take. He gripped handfuls of the bed sheets and roared as he, too, reached his climax, pumping erratically into her until every last wave of earth-shattering pleasure had receded.

Charon gasped for breath, every muscle in his body bunching and relaxing into post-coitus bliss. When he found the energy to open his eyes, he saw what was perhaps his favorite sight in the entire world.

Leah: hair mussed and, on this particular night, make-up smeared from lovemaking sweat, that familiar, exhausted smile gracing her lips that he only ever got to see after sex. "I . . . oh, my God," she panted. "I'd kiss you, but I'm pretty sure that I can't move."

He chuckled, ducking his face against her collarbone. She managed to swing her arms around his neck and they rotated onto their sides, tangled up with each other and the sheets that clung to their heated skin.

"I love you," she repeated in a much calmer voice than before, "in case you didn't catch that earlier."

"I did," he exhaled, lifting his face to kiss her softly. "I love you, too."

"Aren't you glad we waited?" she angled, smiling mischievously even through her exhaustion.

"Too tired to argue with you about that right now, smoothskin," he admitted, tugging her gently against his chest, "so for now, I will agree. Come morning, though, and I will fiercely deny any such incident."

"Good enough for me. Happy anniversary, Charon."

A low chuckle, deep with exhaustion. "Happy anniversary, Leah."


	15. Ready, Set, Go

Alone in his bed, the old man gasped for breath. He clutched at his chest, eyes bugging in panic as he realized: I'm dying. His legs kicked, arms flailing wildly, but there was nothing he could do – nothing anybody could do.

It was his time to go.

* * *

"Have you found their locations yet?"

"Yes, sir. One lies within the gates of Rivet City, the other in Tenpenny Tower."

"Good, very good. Send the envoys out to get them. We take no risks. This is our only chance."

"If I may, sir . . . there will be no need to retrieve the girl. She has given us assistance before –,"

"Just as she has helped our enemy! We _take no risks!_ Retrieve her!"

". . . . yes, sir."

* * *

A soft giggle, followed by a husky chuckle. Forks scraping against chipped plates. Bed sheets bunched around naked skin. A slim, sun-kissed body, leaning forward arm outstretched.

A ruined and smiling mouth, parting to allow a forkful of food to slide between his teeth. Chewing thoughtfully. A grin. "Perfect, even cold."

More shared laughter.

Legs crossed, she reached out to accept yet another small box. "One more?"

"One more."

Her fingers delicately unpeeled the wrapping paper. The lid to the metal box was pulled apart and tossed aside. Eyes widening. Lips trembling. Her hands curved around the necklace in shock and disbelief. Petals forged carefully from scrap metal clinked musically together as she lifted the necklace from its box. Her eyes flickered over each one, counting.

_Ten._

_One from each of the children._

And, in the middle, the biggest flower of all, with swooping, wide petals outstretched as if reaching for an artificial sun. A tear burned its way down her cheek as she traced its looping edges, eyes memorizing the small _C_ carved into one of the petals. Each flower was branded in this way, with a letter to indicate the first name of their makers. Her gaze lifted back to meet his. Choking back a sob, she threw her arms around his chest and pressed her cheek to his skin. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

They did not speak. There were no words to be spoken.

* * *

Morning found Nova padding tiredly across the cold tile of the lobby, a hand scrunching through her mussy red hair. Gob had told her to check on the happy couple, just to make sure they hadn't "fucked themselves into a stupor, because there's no way I'm taking care of their pack of runts." She yawned as she turned the knob and quietly pushed the door open.

Her eyes widened in surprise, before she smiled fondly.

Books, utensils, broken paper lanterns, and ripped clothing items were littered haphazardly over the floor. The table that Lucy had so adoringly arranged for them was nearly empty. Evidently the couple had gotten hungry in the middle of the night, as their plates and cups were set in a pile beside the bed. The candles on the table had burnt down to the wick, wax melting down over the edges of the metal stands that supported them.

Nova's gray eyes drifted to the bed. A long, tan leg was exposed from beneath the sheets. One of Charon's arms was strewn to the side, and Leah huddled comfortably there, her face buried against his chest. His head lolled back, facing away from the door, his other arm slung protectively over her body. The bed sheets seemed to be torn and bunched around their bodies as they peacefully slept.

At the foot of the bed sat three boxes, among scraps of wrapping paper. Two weapons were nestled lovingly within them, having been opened and adored the previous night by their new owners. The third, smaller box held Leah's homemade necklace. Nova moved silently through the room, smiling at the sleeping couple before she quietly pulled the balcony doors open to allow some air and sunlight to filter into the room.

She then left, as silently as she had come.

* * *

Charon ran the small cloth over the shining, metal barrel, lovingly dipped it into small crevices of the stock and along the edges of the scope. It was already more than clean enough for battle, but new toys were always fun to play with. The Reservist's Rifle. Beautiful, absolutely beautiful. Leah sure knew how to make a guy happy.

It was better than her Victory rifle. And she'd given it to him.

He gave a lazy sigh and held it up to his shoulder for the hundredth time, savoring how perfectly it fit there. Goddamn, he loved that woman.

"Can you take your gun porn _away_ from the table?" Nova complained, fingers curving around the barrel to shove it downward with an annoyed frown. "We're eating here."

"Yeah, why don't you go outside and shoot that thing while Leah's practicing with the kids?" Gob suggested, after dutifully finishing the food in his mouth.

Charon scowled. "Leah won't let me shoot it until we are in actual battle. She said half of the present is seeing it in real action."

"Gun-tease." Nova grinned.

"No kidding." Charon sighed and set the weapon down, turning to his already-cold plate of fried squirrel. He shoved the fork around on the plate, sulking as much as a two-hundred-year-old ghoul is really able to.

Rapid footsteps made them all turn and RJ burst into the room, chest heaving as he gasped for breath. "It's Leah," he panted as Charon shot to his feet, grabbing the rifle at his side. "Talking to some . . . idiot with her Pip-Boy . . . something about Outcasts . . . emergency!" He slumped against the wall to allow Charon passage around him. Nova was on her feet and pulled RJ to her, comfortingly stroking the back of his head. She nodded for Gob to follow over his shoulder and the small ghoul took off as well.

Charon passed the entire herd of children on his way, skirting them with a low curse. Leah always preferred to get them "real-life experience." If it was dangerous enough for her to send them inside, then they had a serious problem on their hands. He broke out into daylight, grimacing in the bright sunshine. His eyes adjusted and he spotted her at one of the outdoor tables.

Leah's deeply disturbed expression did not fade as she glanced up to see him. The pencil in her hand was sprinting across a sheet of paper filled with her recognizable scrawl, messy in desperation.

"But where _are_ you?" she demanded tersely of her Pip-Boy, which she held up near her left ear as she wrote.

"I don't fuckin' know, Poindexter!" Butch DeLoria's voice hollered back at her, tinny through their Pip-Boy connection but clearly hoarse with fear. "All I know is, these motherfuckers in power armor took me, threw me in a truck, and now I'm in some small fuckin' cell next to a dead dude with his arm cut off! His fucking arm! They tried to cut his Pip-Boy off, Leah, don't let them do that to me!" he begged.

Charon's hands grasped Leah's trembling shoulders to comfort her. The kid had called her by her real name. He was scared shitless.

"I won't," she promised in a solid tone. "I won't, Butch. Just sit tight, I'm coming to get you."

"No," Butch countered, surprising them. "You make sure _you're_ safe first, Poindexter. They can track _me_? They can track _you_. They're comin' for you, too."

"We can take them," Leah insisted after a moment's panic. "Keep yourself alive. Don't provoke them. We are _coming to get you_."

The comm. channel died with a small _click_. Leah got to her feet, the paper of notes clenched in her hand. When she turned around to see Charon, her face was pale and drawn, full of dread. "Who?" he asked her, shaking her shoulders a little. "Don't panic on me, smoothskin. Who is coming?"

"Outcasts," Leah bit out. Her lips were white as she nibbled desperately on the bottom one. "He's at the Outpost. They can track our Pip-Boys. God _damn_ it," she roared, pushing past Charon back toward the tower. "We need to get weapons, get in the truck, and get the fuck away from here before my Pip-Boy leads them to the kids!" she called furiously. "Grab Gob and Roy Phillips. I'm going to run upstairs, get our stuff and Fawkes, and come back down. Meet you in the lobby in five," she barked fervently before hand-vaulting over the desk and into the elevator.

Charon nodded and ducked into the restaurant, spotting the two ghouls in question. "Gob, Roy, we have a problem," he bit out, hitching a thumb over his shoulder. The children all peered up at him in fear and confusion as the ghouls came to his side. "Do not worry," he assured them in his best confidence. He sighed and set his shoulders, turning and walking out into the lobby with the others.

"What is it?" Roy demanded, annoyed. "Surely it can't warrant all this fuckin' stress."

"Charon?" Gob knew better than to doubt the look on the taller ghoul's face.

"The Outcasts want Leah for some reason. They're tracking her Pip-Boy. They've already found the only other person with one. Fuck." He paced back and forth, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "We need to get her out of here – away from the kids." The elevator doors opened with a _ding_ and he whirled to see Leah storm out with their bag on her back. Fawkes ducked into the lobby, his Gatling laser strapped to his back and a missile launcher in one hand.

"Your armor," Leah snapped, tossing the plates to Charon. He slipped them on, noting in satisfaction that she was in the suit of power armor that Sarah Lyons had given her. She turned to Gob and Roy, her expression hard in determination. "I'm going to take off, get as far away from here as possible so the Outcasts don't show up. They want me, not the kids."

"I will watch over them," Gob promised fiercely.

"No," Charon disagreed, shoving an assault rifle from Leah's bag into the smaller ghoul's chest. "You are coming with us."

"Roy, will you stay and look after everyone?" Leah asked, ignoring the way Gob's face stretched into a disbelieving gape.

"Naturally. This tower is mine now," Roy Phillips growled angrily. "Anyone in it is safe. Dashwood's not so bad with a sniper rifle, either. I can station him at my suite and he'll keep a look out from the balcony."

"Good deal. You have my thanks. Nobody should come here anyways, but we can't be too safe." She turned to Gob. "You wanted adventure? You've got it, Gobby. Are you still down?"

"Fuck yeah, I'm still down," the ghoul replied at once with a grin. "If you got the armor to spare, that'd be nice, too, though. This ratty ol' T-shirt ain't gonna stop a laser rifle."

"We have plenty." Leah pulled her Xuanlong rifle out of the bag before handing it to Fawkes. "Will you take this to the truck as well for me, Fawkes? We'll be right out."

"Anything for you, my friend," the super mutant promised, hoisting it over his shoulder beside his Gatling laser. He and Charon marched out of the lobby and into the courtyard. Leah and Gob went back into the restaurant.

Nova's head shot up at her ghoul as he walked in and she threw her arms around his neck. "You're going, aren't you?" she whispered throatily.

"Yes, smoothskin, but I will be back before you know it," he reassured her with a kiss. "Some assholes want to see Leah. We're goin' to go meet 'em head on."

"You'll stop 'em," Nova murmured, a sad little smile on her lips.

"You bet your sweet ass we'll stop 'em," Leah agreed, spotting RJ in the far corner with the rest of the kids and gesturing him over. "This is my favorite fucking rifle and if you break it, I swear to God, it'll be your head, RJ," she told him, handing the gun to him fervently, "but there's no rifle out there that'll shoot faster. It's your job to keep everyone safe if the people after me come here. They likely won't, but I know I can count on you to protect everyone."

RJ's chest puffed out in pride. "Of course, Leah. Why do they want you?"

"I'm hoping to find out." She squeezed him in a swift hug and kissed his forehead. "Thank you for the necklace," she added in a murmur and he laughed. She waved goodbye to the children – ignoring the pang of guilt and agony at Bumble's wide-eyed expression – and hugged Nova farewell before following Gob back outside. Roy waved them off as they ran past, clutching his Chinese assault rifle reassuringly in his hands. Gob and Leah found the truck parked right outside the front gates, Charon behind the wheel and Fawkes sitting ready to attack in the bed behind him.

Gob helped Leah up into the middle seat before swinging himself up behind her. Charon revved the engine and they took off the instant the door shut. "Where are we headed, smoothskin?" he demanded.

Leah checked her Pip-Boy and pointed them southeast. Her hands trembled as she brought out the page of notes she'd written. "It has to be the Outpost. They blindfolded him, but Butch said he remembered going down an elevator." She nibbled on her bottom lip, shaking her head. "I don't get it, Charon! If they wanted a Pip-Boy, they had one when we were there. I could've helped them with whatever they needed. Why are they kidnapping other vaulties?"

"I don't know," he shot back, hands gripping the wheel so tight it gave a dangerous-sounding crack. "But they won't get you."

"No," she agreed coldly, "they won't."

"Who exactly are we rescuing right now?" Gob asked uncertainly.

Leah sighed, rolling the stress and tightness from her shoulders. She grabbed weapons from her bag and began triple checking to ensure they were loaded. "My friend Butch, from the Vault. I sprung him when I went back to save all their sorry lives. He was doing just fine at Rivet City getting drunk every night. He's completely harmless; that's why I can't understand why they'd want him when they already knew that I have a Pip-Boy and I am completely willing to help them out." She shoved one more microfusion cell into her Gauss rifle and gritted her teeth. "It must be something big and _bad_ for them to take action like this."

"Is there any way to contact the Brotherhood?" Gob suggested, looking back and forth between the other two. "They're enemies, right?"

Silence fell in the cab, interrupted only by the ear-shattering roar of the engine beneath them.

"No," Leah finally answered, a strange expression on her face. "No, but it has to do with them somehow. The Outcasts wouldn't pull some bullshit like this over anything smaller than the Brotherhood. You're a genius, Gob."

"Are you all right with killing Outcasts, Leah?" Charon asked with some concern, glancing over at her. "You have helped both them and the Brotherhood, but you have never claimed allegiance with either side."

"If they hurt Butch, then all faith I had in them is lost," she answered shortly. "And I will kill anyone who comes after me and mine. I get the feeling this isn't McGraw, though. This has to be Casdin pulling the strings. McGraw seemed like a decent person."

"True, but you never can tell. Hold on to something, Fawkes!" Charon called over his shoulder, flooring the gas as they started up an incline. "We're hitting this hill hard!"

Fawkes roared back as an affirmative and grabbed the railings in his hands. With a guttural snarl from the engine in protest, the truck lurched upward and hit the crest of the hill with the tires digging furiously through dry dirt.

Gob and Leah grabbed for the dash as the truck bumped back down, nearly losing their grip and banging against the ceiling.

Two identical trucks became visible on the horizon, coming straight for them. The Outcast insignia burned brightly in the sunshine on their hoods, glinting hot and red as their wheels churned dirt. A man in power armor leaned out of one of the windows, a rifle in hand. The sound of bullets hitting metal ting'ed against the hood of their truck.

"Shit!" Leah screamed, reaching for her bag. She grabbed her Gauss rifle and tossed Gob his assault rifle. "Fawkes!"

"I see them, my friend!" the super mutant called back, climbing shakily to his feet. The truck swayed as his weight shifted, Charon cursing and releasing the gas so they didn't roll onto a side.

"Keep going in a straight line!" Leah shouted to her ghoul. "If we get too close, we'll swerve around them!" She climbed over Gob's lap to lean out of the passenger window, the ghoul grabbing onto her waist to ensure she didn't fall out. Her Gauss rifle lifted to her shoulder, she lowered her eye to the scope.

The bumpiness of their ride made it difficult to keep the scope steady, but Leah managed to get a glimpse of the foremost truck's cab. There was no way she could get a good enough shot to take the guy out. Surely the truck beds were filled with Outcasts as well. Defender Morgan was sitting beside the man in power armor behind the wheel. The Defender's white teeth flashed in contrast to her dark skin. She was _smiling_.

"That bitch is going down!" Leah shrieked, pointing forward at their truck and ducking back into the cab. "Fawkes, take out the first truck!"

"A-ha-ha-ha!" Fawkes laughed loudly, now on his feet behind the cab. He swung the missile launcher up with a grin that would have made any of those Outcasts shit their pants on sight. "My pleasure, my friend!"

The missile was loosed with a hiss of compressed air and it soared overhead. The trucks, now maybe a mile away in the distance, separated, swerving to avoid it. The missile cut cleanly between them, but it at least made the Outcast shooting at them duck back into the cab.

"Closer, smoothskin, we have to get closer first!" Charon barked, stomping on the gas. The truck jerked forward, throwing their heads back against the seats. Fawkes's big hand appeared by Leah's head as he clenched onto the cab for support.

"Again, friend Leah?" Fawkes asked in a holler.

"Not yet!" Leah propped her Gauss rifle up onto the dash, waiting for Morgan's truck to turn back in her direction. They jerked forward back into their parallel position, now zooming for Leah's truck. There was not enough space between the two for their truck to fit. Charon made to turn, but she stayed his arms. "Keep going straight!"

"What?"

"I said, don't turn yet!"

"Are you crazy? They'll hit us!"

"Give us some speed, too!" she screamed back, glancing through the scope back and forth between the two drivers.

Charon gritted his teeth, but pushed even harder on the gas pedal.

"You're both fucking insane!" Gob shouted. "You're gonna get us killed, kid!"

"They won't hit us," Leah whispered. "Fawkes!" she cried, raising her voice so the mutant could hear. "Get that missile launcher ready! Shoot 'em when they're close enough!"

"This isn't just a game of chicken, kid!" Gob was yelling. "They'll kill us at that speed!"

"They _won't_ hit us!" she screeched. Half a mile now. "Fawkes, GO! Aim for the ground right between them!"

Fawkes loosed the next missile and it zoomed toward the dirt right ahead of their cars, perfectly between them. Their hands jerked on the steering wheels, but it was too late. The missile hit ground and exploded, sending both trucks careening onto their sides, making just enough space for their truck to speed between them.

"Flip a bitch," Leah gasped, blue eyes wild in excitement. "We got 'em."

Charon barked out a laugh as he hit the brakes and turned the wheel. "You're fucking crazy, smoothskin!"

"It's why you love me," she affirmed, glancing with concern at Gob. "You can change your pants _after_ we kill these Outcasts," she informed him all too calmly.

"Fuck you guys," he spat, shaking his head. When they had turned around, Leah could see that the Outcasts had all filtered out of the overturned vehicles and were crawling to their feet.

"Fire at will, Fawkes!" Leah called up to the mutant. "Leave the woman alive!"

"Gladly, my friend!" The electric sizzling of his Gatling laser went off and the quivering beam of red light appeared overhead. He aimed for the legs, knocking them all down before they could continue shooting. A few of them were missing.

"Let's get close, but not right on them," Leah muttered, eyes whizzing as she calculated strategies. "There are a few hiding behind the trucks that could ambush us if we pull in there."

Charon pulled them to a stop about twenty feet away. Fawkes kept his Gatling laser at the ready if anyone popped out to try anything funny. Leah stuck her head out of the passenger window, clutching her Gauss rifle just in case.

"What the fuck do you want with me?" she shouted, her voice ringing out in the space left between their trucks.

A female voice surprised her by responding: Defender Morgan. "I have orders to kill you, Vault-dweller!"

Leah's eyes narrowed. Butch hadn't mentioned anything about killing yet. "Well you're not fucking killing anything!" she screamed eloquently back. "Where is my friend?"

"The other Vault-dweller is dead," Morgan replied. "All wanderers with the arm-machines must be taken care of!"

Charon put a quick hand on Leah's shoulder, anticipating her reaction. She smiled reassuringly at him before turning back toward the other trucks. "Why do we have to be 'taken care of'?" she demanded.

"Classified information, _local_!"

Silence. Charon ran a hand over his face as Leah's entire body went rigid. Gob looked at the larger ghoul with a questioning glance.

"That one she won't get away with," Leah hissed.

"Smoothskin," Charon began pleadingly, but she had already opened the door and was hopping out, Gauss rifle in hand. She grabbed a tire iron from where it lay at the bottom of the cab before slamming the door shut behind her again.

"Where is she going?" Gob demanded, watching Charon jump out as well.

"To be her normal, reckless self," Charon called back. "Get your rifle. Guess we're going in on foot."

Leah was storming forward, Gauss rifle in one hand, tire iron in the other.

"Don't come any closer, Vault-dweller!" Morgan threatened, hearing her approaching footsteps.

"Then come fucking get it!" Leah shouted, shooting a round off into the air.

Two Outcasts stepped out from around the sides of the trucks with laser rifles lifted to their shoulders.

"I got left!" Leah called back to Charon, swiftly shooting down the left Outcast with her Gauss rifle.

The comforting sound of another gunshot signaled Charon's killing of the other. Leah kept walking and stepped between the two trucks. Barely any distance left between her and them anymore. Two more Outcasts rounded the corners. Leah took off at a run, crossing the few feet left between them. She pounded the tire iron into the right one's stomach, making him double over, before smacking the second behind the knees with it. Shaken, the two Outcasts were distracted long enough for Charon to shoot them down from where he stood in front of their truck. The tire iron fell from her hands with a clang as she abandoned it.

There was one more person to take care of. Leah swept around the corner with her gun to her shoulder. Its barrel was pointed straight at a rebelliously sneering Defender Morgan.

Staring at each other, guns raised, Morgan and Leah were left at a standstill. "There's a difference between you and me, you bitch," Leah spat, lips curling up into a smile. "You can't shoot me."

"I told you, I have orders to –,"

"Oh, _sure_ you have _orders_ to," Leah mocked in a singsong voice. In a blindingly fast movement, she lowered her Gauss rifle and pulled the trigger, shooting the Defender straight in the foot. "But could you actually _do_ it?"

Morgan shrieked in pain and collapsed into the dirt, laser rifle falling from her hands. Leah kicked it away with a sneer. "You're a horrible liar, Defender Morgan. I know for a fact that my friend is alive. That your Protector wants _me_ alive. The question now is, will I extend the same courtesy with you?" With no further ado, Leah slammed the butt of her rifle into Morgan's forehead, rendering her immediately unconscious.

The crunch of footsteps made her look up. Charon approached, his rifle resting against his shoulder. "Did you kill her?" he asked warily.

"No," she assured him, shaking her head. "We'll take her with us when we confront Casdin at the Outpost. I'm not one for holding hostages, but I'm not going in there empty-handed." She stowed the Gauss rifle away on her back and leaned down to grab the Defender's legs.

Charon dutifully grabbed her shoulders and together they lugged her back toward the truck. "How did you know they did not really kill Butch?" he asked warily.

"Why would they go through the effort of kidnapping a greaser from a dirty bar and wasting time dragging him all the way back to the base _before_ killing him?" She shook her head again. "It doesn't add up. They don't know that he contacted me. Which is good," she added as an afterthought. "The less they think I know, the better." They reached the truck and Fawkes easily scooped Morgan up from them, tossing her unconscious body rather unceremoniously onto the bed of the truck.

"If she wakes up, feel free to knock her back out," Leah called back to him with more relish than was necessarily healthy as she climbed back into the truck.

"So now what?" Gob asked warily.

Charon shrugged the stress from his shoulders before grinning at his friend. "Now, we return to sender. Ready to get your idiot back, Leah?"

She snorted, reloading her Gauss rifle. "You know it."

Charon started the truck and they wheeled around to continue southeast, leaving a wreckage of two trucks and numerous dead Outcasts behind them.

"Oh, and smoothskin?"

Leah looked up, an eyebrow raised. "Yes?"

"There is something to be said for waiting to enjoy something," Charon admitted gruffly, holding up his Reservist's Rifle.

"Ha! You believe me now?"

"I won't admit that I was wrong," he countered with a laugh. "But I will say that you were right."

"You're too sweet to me, honey bunch."

"Only the best for my smoothskin."

Gob looked back and forth between them in disgust. Two minutes after a battle and they were right back to flirty banter, as if they'd been enjoying a nice dinner instead of out killing the fuck out of Outcasts. He shook his head.

"You two are fucking crazy. You know that right?"

* * *

**I know it's a little confusing right now. It'll clear up soon, I promise.**

**DaLover, Anastasia, and dolly-cola, thank you for the lovely reviews! I aim only to please ;) Thank you always for reading - you guys are the best!**


	16. What They Want

Butch sank against the floor. When he was able to blink past the blotch of pain and sweat, he faintly recognized the dark stain of his blood against the tile beneath his hands. It was sticky between his fingers and he slumped onto his side, feeling the liquid splatter against his bare skin.

"They outnumber us five to one, Protector –," a muted voice rumbled from outside the door.

"Insignificant, McGraw. They have grown weak over the unkind years tending after dying settlements and losing countless lives to super mutants. We have superior technology."

"So did the Brotherhood at Helios One, sir."

"They could have won that battle, under the right management. Just as _we_ will have victory in _this_ battle! They are leaderless. From what our scouts say, they've fallen into complete chaos. We will succeed. Go check the armory. Everything must be completely ready if we're to survive this battle."

"Yes, sir."

Butch closed his eyes, hoping against hope that he would make it out of here alive. He was probably the only one who knew about the impending doom soon to come. It had only been a few years since he'd left the Vault, but that was enough time to know that the Brotherhood and the Outcasts were not on good terms. This would not end well. He needed to get the hell out of here.

There was only one person who could stop it.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set behind the war-ravaged, explosion-baked dirt of the horizon. Violence crackled in the irradiated evening air.

Nobody was out in the courtyard to appreciate it.

The initiates wandered aimlessly around the B ring. They'd given up trying to practice on their own days ago – without Gunny breathing down their necks, pushing them, the experience just wasn't the same. Not to mention the cloud of grief and despair that had rolled in and remained looming overhead. The skies had dimmed an appropriate, dull gray, as if mimicking the horror that it witnessed in the Brotherhood soldiers below.

Paladin Glade paced back and forth in front of the shut door, running his hands desperately through his hair. The ceremony had been over for hours and still she wouldn't come out. It wasn't easy for any of them to watch the old man's body burn to ashes and be sent off to sea, but it had to be excruciating for her. Her own fucking father.

The entire Brotherhood was going to shit.

Who was going to step up and take the elder position now? The obvious choice was Sarah Lyons, but the scribes were behind Rothchild. That conflict wasn't going to get any smaller before it came to a climax.

He cursed and rubbed a hand over his face.

There was only one person who could fix it.

* * *

"Butch?" A tentative question, murmured desperately into her Pip-Boy.

No response.

"Butch, goddamn it, answer me! Are you alive still?"

No response.

"Gun it, Charon."

* * *

_Don't provoke them. _

He clenched his eyes shut tight, teeth gritted against the pain. He hated this Wasteland, hated how it had ruined his life and nearly killed him over and over again. But it had freed him to the truth, to reality, and that debt he could not leave unpaid. People underestimated him. Thought he was nothing better than a bully greaser who picked on people to make himself feel better and hit the bottle every night to remind himself of what little bit of a mother he'd had as a child. He'd prove them wrong. He'd prove them all fucking wrong.

He'd save this Wasteland if it was the last thing he did.

So the next time the metal door was pushed open, its edge scraping against the floor, he waited until the Outcast shoved a tray of sloppily constructed food at his feet. He snapped his head up and leapt for the man. It was to his luck that the Outcast had decided against power armor, opting instead for a T-shirt and jeans. He clapped a hand over his mouth, grabbed the back of his head, and twisted his neck. The man crumpled to the floor.

Butch hastily pulled on his clothing, his hands shivering in fear and exhilaration. He slicked his hair back, grabbed the laser pistol from the dead Outcast, and stole through the darkened hallways. It was almost night. The Outcasts were gathered in the dining hall for dinner. Good.

Butch hobbled forward. He was injured, near death even. If he was caught, it would be the end of him. He threw himself into the elevator and slammed the button, collapsing against one of the walls for support. His chest heaved with frantic, urgent breaths. He was the only one who knew the truth. He'd die trying to get it to Leah.

He'd die to keep them from getting his Pip-Boy.

They were waiting at the top – but at least they hadn't been expecting _him_.

Butch luckily caught the nearest guard by surprise. He grabbed him by the hair in his left hand and swung his right around to place the pistol against his stomach, pulling the trigger. He used his corpse as a meatshield, feeling it take countless shots before he took the chance to angle his arm around and shoot down the next one. Adrenaline was all that was keeping his body up now.

The sound of an incoming truck made his heart clench. There were _more_ coming. He was fucked, completely fucked. But he'd be damned if he didn't take a few more down with him. A crazed battle roar wrenching from his throat, Butch dropped his meatshield and sprinted up the ramp for the next man, tackling him to the ground. He pistol whipped him, did a barrel roll, and shot the ankle of another Outcast, who dropped immediately.

The incoming truck skidded forward just feet away from him, smashing into one Outcast and sending another flying out of the way. Butch looked up in defeat. He was about to be killed and he knew it.

To his complete shock, a super mutant leaned down from the bed of the truck and grabbed him by the neck of his shirt. His body was flung limply up into the bed and the truck took off at once, wheels digging into dirt.

"Ditch the Outcast!" a rough voice barked from the cab.

Fawkes obediently tossed an unconscious female's body from the bed of the truck. She rolled when she hit the dirt.

Butch looked up just at the last moment to see the elevator come back up. Protector Casdin himself was flanked by two other Outcasts. And then the truck passed the ramp and he could no longer see the man who would haunt his nightmares for years to come, after all of this business was over with.

"Do not worry, small male human!" the super mutant roared, making Butch jump and flinch away. The yellowed mutant slapped his shoulder, jostling a handful of bruises and many more lacerations. "We will keep you alive."

Butch's eyes drooped shut and he collapsed against the large mutant's chest as one last voice broke through his consciousness.

"_Butch! Butch – you're safe._"

That was all he needed to hear.

He tumbled into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Thought I'd find you here."

Rockfowl whirled, swinging around his minigun, ready to shoot down whoever was dumb enough to sneak up on him. He used to be a fucking Defender and anybody who assumed he was an easy target would get the lesson of a lifetime before he sent them swiftly to Hell.

He froze.

"McGraw?"

"I like the quick draw, Rockfowl," the Protector approved with a steady nod. "It will serve you well. On your way to the Citadel?"

"How did you know that?"

"Because I'm heading there, too." He glanced almost uncertainly over his shoulder. "Casdin has no idea yet that I left. If I'm lucky, he won't know until morning." He turned back to Rockfowl with gray, empty eyes. "He killed Olin."

"What? Why?"

"Because she refused to help him track the Vaulties. That greaser and your girlfriend. She wouldn't help him find them, so he just killed her." He shook his head. "The man's gone insane with power-hunger. Tech hunting is one thing. But this? This . . . battle he's chasing? It won't end well."

"You're going to warn the Brotherhood."

"I have to. They may be a bunch of bleeding-heart-fucking-liberals, but we can't take the risk that . . . that . . ."

Rockfowl nodded and turned away, hiding his expression. "That Casdin will win and take over the Citadel."

"Exactly."

"Then let's get walking. If we hurry, we can make it before daylight."

* * *

"Stimpaks, Med-X, blood packs, none of them are doing anything!" Leah screamed, throwing a used stimpak against the dashboard. "They fucked him up! He's going to fucking die!"

"Smoothskin, keep it together!" Charon barked. "I need you to focus if you want him to live, Leah. Look at me!" His hand caught her chin and tugged her face in his direction. His blue eyes burned as her gaze met his. "If one stimpak does not work, then use one more. Use another. Use as many as you need to keep him alive until we reach the Citadel. Your father was a doctor and I _know you can do this_." He released her, touching her cheek in a tender caress before returning his hand to the wheel.

Leah's entire body was wracked with violent quivers. She wiped the sweat from her brow and yanked her bag from where it lay at Gob's feet. "Ok-kay," she gasped, rummaging through it for more stimpaks. She felt helpless. She'd already used ten and Butch still hadn't woken up. But she trusted her ghoul. "I will." She slid another stimpak into the massive bruises on Butch's chest, trying desperately to quell the shaking in her hands as she did so.

"You've got this, smoothskin," Gob rasped shakily beside her. "Just – just keep with it! You got it!"

"We're getting close," Charon added, flooring the gas. Leah ripped lengths of gauze and bandages apart with her teeth and stretched them over Butch's chest. The Citadel came into view in the distance and she nearly wept in relief. Butch's breathing was becoming shallower and lighter. He was toeing the line between life and death.

He was their only chance now of getting to the bottom of this. They couldn't afford to lose him now.

* * *

"Open up the gates! We got Leah and Charon comin' through!" Paladin Bael shouted into the intercom, smacking the door with the butt of his laser rifle. With a creaking roar of protest, the gates jerked to life and began to lift. Their truck rumbled under and into the long, debris-filled hallway. They all rushed out of the truck, Fawkes supporting Butch's limp body easily in his arms as they headed for the double doors.

Paladin Bael sprinted to catch up with them.

"Is Sawbones still here?" Leah demanded tersely, shouldering the doors open for Fawkes's bulky frame to fit under. "This man needs medical help _now_."

"He's in the medical office as always," Bael panted. "But you need to know, Leah, things have gone to shit here. Go find Sarah Lyons. She needs you!"

"On it," she promised. They hustled across the empty courtyard. Leah stared around in shock to see that the initiates weren't doing push-ups or shooting practice. Sure, it was late evening, but Gunny ran them hard. They were usually out late into the night. In fact, the paladin was nowhere to be seen himself.

Something was not right.

"Let's hurry up," she urged frantically, sliding through the lab doors that Charon held open for them. They rushed across the metal pathways and down the steps. Leah marched through the empty lab, speechless. The laboratory was normally brimming with scribes and scientists, fluttering here and there to this machine or that with a clipboard and a mug of coffee in hand. To see it empty was jarring. "There's something seriously wrong. Quickly, this way." She ushered them into the medical office, wincing when Fawkes had to hand Butch's body off to Charon. He was too big to fit through. The ghoul hardly managed to squeeze through himself.

Sawbones went right to work as soon as Charon laid Butch out onto the table. The Mr. Handy robot whirred over him, peeling back bandages and scanning the bruises of his body in precise calculation.

"Can we trust that sack of metal to take care of him?" Gob muttered uncertainly.

"Fixed him myself," Leah sighed, rubbing her eyes. "He'll be absolutely fine. We have to go find Sarah Lyons, though, and find out what the fuck is going on. Maybe it has to do with why the Outcasts went after us."

"She'll be in the A ring," Charon murmured, grabbing her hand and heading back for the stairs.

"In the Lyons' Den," Leah agreed. They pattered back up the stairs and into a door against the side wall. "We haven't seen anybody but Bael. I'm worried."

"It is odd. We should wait until we hear the truth to worry too much, smoothskin. It's bad for your health."

"Yeah, heard it gives you wrinkles," Gob supplied helpfully from behind them.

"And God forbid I get wrinkles," Leah huffed, throwing her hands into the air in exasperation. Charon chuckled tiredly and held the A ring door open for her and Gob. "I apologize, Fawkes, but I do not think you will fit."

"It is quite all right, my friend. I do not mind staying behind with the small human."

"Hey, I'll stick around, too," Gob volunteered, stepping back toward the mutant. He turned and smiled at Charon and Leah. "Just to make sure nobody shoots at him."

"Thank you." Charon laced his fingers through Leah's and they turned down the hallway to the A Ring. Their footsteps echoed ominously around them, empty and alone. Leah swallowed nervously.

The din of loud, tense voices broke out into the long hallway and she exhaled in relief. "Oh, thank God." They stepped out into the Lyons' Den.

The long table stretched across the room was surrounded by the Lyons' Pride and every other paladin in the Brotherhood. They were all leaning anxiously onto the table's edge or standing, pacing back and forth. As Leah and Charon entered, they all paused and looked up at them.

"Thank God," one of them repeated her phrase. Paladin Glade tore his helmet off to expose his exhausted, stressed expression. "We need you here, Vaultie."

Leah's eyes darted from one face to another as they all removed their helmets. "Where is Sarah Lyons?"

"That's what we need help with," Gallows intoned solemnly from the back of the table.

"Is she missing?" Charon demanded, his hand clenching around Leah's.

"She might as fucking well be," Glade muttered, running his hands back through his hair, an apprehensive tendency that had come up over the last few days. "Elder Lyons died."

Leah's confused expression froze on her face. It melted slowly into a look of fierce disturbance. "How – I – oh, God. No wonder the Outcasts – oh, we are so fucked."

"The Outcasts?" Paladin Kodiak shoved his chair back and leapt to his feet. "What the fuck are they up to?"

"Everyone shut the fuck up!" Charon barked, startling everyone into falling silent. He squeezed Leah's hand before staring out at all of the paladins and knight captains before him. "We need to start at the beginning."

"Right," Glade snapped, shaking his head frantically. "Elder Lyons died a few days ago. Heart attack. We all assumed Sarah Lyons was going to step up immediately as new elder. I know you need a few days to grieve, but she's always been the strong one. She puts all the bullshit aside to do her job."

"Except she's retreated into the elder's rooms, and we haven't heard a fuckin' peep from her since," Knight Captain Dusk hissed. She speared Leah with a glare. "Judging by what _you_ looked like after _your_ dad kicked it, we've got quite the fuckin' problem on our hands."

"You bitch!" Leah screamed, leaping for the table. Charon caught her by the waist and attempted to haul her back against his chest.

Dusk stood up from the table with a cruel smirk, egging the Lone Wanderer on with a beckoning motion.

"You are so fucking lucky that there is a crisis going on, you sick, twisted cunt," Leah spat, calming in the circle of Charon's arms. The curse word was not one that Leah brought out lightly. "Or else I would teach you a fucking lesson you wouldn't forget."

Every paladin and knight captain in the room stared at Dusk in horror and disgust. Knight Captain Colvin shook his head. The two knight captains were notorious for having a constant rivalry. But not even he would have expected such a nasty statement from her.

"Okay," Leah sighed, shaking her head and dispelling the tense atmosphere that had fallen about the room. "I'm over it. We're all edgy here. Pushing past that, what's the new problem? Besides Sarah's apparently catatonic state?"

"The scribes are pushing for Rothchild to take over," Glade mumbled quietly, still stunned by Dusk's callous insult. "Normally it wouldn't be an issue, but it's been three days and Sarah Lyons still has yet to come out and claim the title. The scribes are using that to say that she is unfit to lead the Brotherhood. That she isn't strong enough."

"That's bullshit," Leah protested at once. "Anyone would freak out if their only parent just died!"

"That's what we've been arguing, but it's hard to drive the point home if the person in question won't even show her face to prove it," Gallows murmured in frustration.

Leah nibbled on her bottom lip, searching each face for any sort of hope. She found none. Except in the very last person at the table. "Vargas," she whispered hopefully. "What's your take on it all?"

Lyons' second-in-command dropped his head into his hands. "I know the sentinel very well. But not even I could crack through that silence. It's like she's completely gone behind that door. I can't get through to her."

"Tell us about the Outcasts," Glade prompted urgently. "What are they up to?"

"I guess somehow they heard about this conflict," Leah informed them, her words mushing together in her hurry. "They kidnapped my friend, the only other person in the Wasteland with a working Pip-Boy. For what reason, I don't know. He couldn't tell me. They beat him within an inch of his fucking life. They tried to get me, too. Their mistake," she added with a cruel twist to her mouth. There were tired chuckles in appreciation around the table. "I just know they're up to something, and it's something big. I've been on amicable terms with them from the start. If they're willing to suddenly turn on that, then we have a serious problem."

"Just what we need," Colvin muttered with a swift curse. "We need Sentinel Lyons back. We need her to step up and claim her title."

"Have the scribes tried anything?" Charon asked.

"No, thankfully not," Vargas sighed. "But they're been floating around the upper labs, talking and plotting this whole time. We can't afford to lose them, so we can't just go and kill them all. They are the history-keepers. They have more knowledge of the Brotherhood than all of us combined. Jameson has been willing to speak with us, when she can get away. She knows that the scribes are important, too, though. She isn't willing to turn on them if it isn't best for the Brotherhood. At this point, we aren't too sure if Sentinel Lyons is the best option either."

"That's a lie," Leah cut in with a casual shrug of her shoulders. "If you guys had no faith in Sarah Lyons, you wouldn't be milling around here talking about what to do. You'd be marching over to the upper lab and handing Rothchild those elder robes. If you can't get through to her, Vargas, then I'm going to go do it. We all know if the Outcasts are up to something, we will need someone with battle savvy to be in charge. Scribe Rothchild is just that – a scribe – and frankly, he's a huge dick to top it all off."

Exhaling a small _phew_ after her impassioned speech, Leah turned to leave. She paused and wheeled around, a fierce glare in her eyes. "Oh, first thing's first." She stormed forward to where Dusk was still standing, hauled her arm back, and punched her square in the face. The stunned knight captain stumbled back before falling onto her ass, holding her broken nose with a shocked, pained noise. "You can _take a fucking seat!_" Leah spat. "Piss me off again and I'll break another bone. If you're lucky, I'll let you choose which one." She turned on her heel and marched out, seething.

Charon and the rest of the men in the room stared after her. The ghoul smirked.

"One hell of a woman you got there," Glade gulped.

"If anyone's gonna get to Sentinel Lyons," Vargas muttered. "It's her."

* * *

Leah did not bother knocking or even calling the sentinel's name. She got a marching start and kicked the wooden door open. The living room of the elder's quarters was strewn with empty bottles and dirty clothing. She picked her way across the mess with a disturbed expression. Sarah Lyons was, among other things, an extraordinarily over-organized fiend. This state of chaos was as good an indication as any that something was amiss.

"Sarah," Leah called firmly, turning the corner into the bedroom.

She found her curled up on top of the bed, above the covers, her father's robes huddled within her arms. Her blonde hair fell in a mass of tangled strands over her cheek and neck. She wore nothing but her underwear.

Leah sighed. She knew the feeling well enough. Sarah did not look up at she approached, but she got a quick reaction when she tugged Elder Lyons' robes from her hands and slung them over the foot of the bed. Sarah shot up with a deadly glare. The fire in her eyes had dimmed to pitiful embers.

"This needs to stop," Leah declared, her voice not one bit gentle. She grabbed Sarah by the arm and hauled her up off of the bed. She stumbled, but Leah slung an arm around her waist to keep her up. "Come on. People are counting on you to get it together." She led her into the bathroom and propped her up against the wall, slowly letting her go and nodding in satisfaction when she didn't crumple. Leah snatched a cloth from a nearby shelf and soaked it in lukewarm water. "You've got a room full of paladins and knight captains and one super bitch out there that need your leadership, Sarah," she informed her crisply. Her eyes warmed as she tenderly ran the wet cloth over Sarah's face. She then dried her with gentle pats of a dry rag and set those aside, picking up a hairbrush. She made a spinning motion with her index finger.

Sarah seemed to get the idea and turned around. Humming in approval, Leah set to running the brush through her hair. "You're a strong woman, Sarah, and I won't let you sit and stew like this. You had the nerve to put me in my place when I was hurting, and I don't let those kinds of favors go unreturned."

The sentinel cleared her throat, a delicate, pathetic kind of sound, but at least it was something. "Who's the bitch?"

Leah frowned. "What?"

"You mentioned that there is a super bitch waiting for me."

"Oh. That's Knight Captain Dusk, who thought it would be funny to mention how fucked up _I_ was after _my_ father was gone."

Sarah let out a strangled gasp and nearly collapsed. Leah caught her body before she could fall. "It's okay, Sarah."

"What did you say?" she whispered. "To Dusk."

"I told her she could take a seat. After I broke her nose."

Sarah closed her eyes and smiled. "That's my girl."

"Actually, you should probably be punishing me for punching one of your Lyon cubs in the face," Leah admitted with an unrepentant shrug.

Sarah sighed. "I guess so, if I'm going to be Elder Lyons now. I think pulling my blobby self back together is punishment enough."

"That's not true," Leah murmured, her voice turning very serious. Her blue eyes pierced through Sarah's despair. "You're a good friend of mine, Sarah Marie Lyons, and I don't let my friends wallow in their own bullshit." Then she cracked a smile and hugged her. "Now it's time for you to go get 'em, tiger." She pulled away and handed her a hair-band from the shelf.

With a determined look burning once again in her eyes, Sarah Lyons pulled her hair up into its normal ponytail. She marched back into the room and pulled up her father's old robes. She glanced away from Leah, tears burning in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Leah."

"Don't apologize for crying," the Lone Wanderer insisted softly. "What you're doing hurts. Putting that robe on really finalizes everything. But you're going to do it anyways, and I'd be damned if I said you didn't deserve to cry when you do."

Sarah bit her lip and nodded, sliding into her father's robes. Leah helped her button and zip them up. She turned and looked uncertainly at her. "How do I look?"

"Like an insecure, grief-stricken little girl," Leah said with brutal honesty. "But you are Elder Sarah Lyons and that in and of itself is enough to scare any stupid scribe into pissing his pants. Robes. Whatever."

"Good," Sarah muttered bitterly. She straightened her back. "Are the scribes really all plotting against me? Vargas has been telling me what's going on, but I didn't have the energy to ask him for more information."

"They're definitely pushing for Rothchild to take over. I may not be a real Brotherhood member, but I'll let him become elder over my dead body."

"You're wrong," Sarah insisted, shaking her head.

"What, you want him to –,"

"You're as real a Brotherhood member as any of the paladins sitting in that room," Sarah cut her off.

Leah paused, and then her lips tugged up into a rueful smile. "Thanks. They're all counting on you, myself included. Shall we go show them that Sarah Lyons is not out of commission?"

"Let's." Sarah charged ahead with a new spark in her step. The robes fit her just right. She was going to do just fine.

* * *

Butch gasped and spluttered as he breached consciousness and threw himself up into a sitting position. His hands flailed out to grab at the wall beside him and the cot he sat on. "What the – where the fuck am I?"

Gob lurched up from his seat against the far wall. "Hey, hey, calm down, man," he urged, patting Butch awkwardly on the shoulder. "You're in the Citadel – the Brotherhood headquarters. Leah and Charon brought you here, you were almost dead, man!"

The greaser shook his head and looked around the room in desperate horror. "Leah – where's Leah? She has to – has to know!"

"Has to know what?" Gob demanded, shaking his shoulders and completely forgetting that he was injured.

"War. It's war. The Outcasts want war."

* * *

**Sorry this one took so long, guys. I had a massive case of writer's block. It just took me a good old playlist of epic music to cure it. Any of you guys listen to Tool? I love Tool. And Rush. God, I love Rush. But I digress.**

**Pattyn, your million gazillion reviews all at once nearly gave me a heart attack, I was so excited. I know you like the Outcasts, but as this chapter sort of hints at, they're not all baddies :) While the Brotherhood in the Capital Wasteland did stray from their original goal of collecting technology, I always thought that protecting the area's settlements was a noble enough cause to sway their purpose. I'll get more into that later haha. Thank you, as always, for the shower of praise and reviews. I'm the world's biggest _Empire_ fan. I'm willing to do battle to defend that title. Also, Pyramid Head reference? I almost lost it, I laughed so hard.**

**DaLover, you review like clockwork! I love getting your reviews, they always make me feel like a cocky bastard hahaha. I LOVED your title for the four of them. "Doom quartet?" That's gold, my friend.**

**Anastasia, I hope this chapter clears at least a little bit of it up for you haha. Thank you always for your generous reviews :3 they make me blush.**

**Neonblackbird, you never need to worry about my abandoning this story, I promise you! Leah and Charon are like a part of me now. It's actually probably unhealthy in multiple ways, hahaha... but hey, at least it keeps us all entertained, right?**

**LadyWillow, I'm glad you're excited for more! I'm excited to keep writing. Things are picking up, that's for sure.**

**Thank you EVERYONE for reading - even more so for reviewing! I couldn't make it this far without you guys :3**


	17. The Reaper

Dark hair yanked taut into a bun, a pair of black eyeglasses resting proudly on the bridge of her nose, blue eyes glinting fiercely behind the clear lenses, shoulders set into the determined stance of a natural-born hero, Leah Rose Montgomery looked very much the strong, independent woman she had become. Who cared if she just wore the glasses for effect? Who cared if she really had no idea what she was doing? Who cared if her clothes were tattered and torn, a sad sight in comparison to her beauty?

She was a miracle, an angel, some kind of misguided blessing that Charon had received by some glitch in the system.

And she was all fucking his.

"Elder Lyons, get up here. I'm not the leader, am I? And Butch, stop grumbling over there. Half-dead or not, you're the only one who knows what's going on and for God's sake, Scribe Rothchild, if you mumble _one more_ insult, I will punch you in your throat! Charon!"

The ghoul jumped, startled by her sudden barking of his name, her forceful gaze wheeling to his. "Stop looking at me like that! You're making me nervous!"

"Yes, ma'am," he rumbled with a very small smile, sitting up straighter on the couch in the elder's living quarters. They were all strewn around the room, Butch slumped painfully in a metal chair. Leah and Sarah were both pacing, biting their thumbnails, almost comically identical in both their stress and leadership positions. Head Scribe Rothchild leaned against the doorframe, his expression twisted into a look of pure loathing as he watched his old colleague's daughter move anxious about the room.

"And I suppose you want me to believe this concussed Vault-dweller?" he demanded, wavering voice strong in roaring fury as he jabbed an accusing finger at Butch.

"What, you think I beat my_self_ half to death? Why, you old, washed-up –,"

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't point fingers at my friends, Rothchild," Leah snapped rigidly, "especially ones that have any sort of vague idea on the Outcasts' crazed actions, thank you very much."

Rothchild opened his mouth to shout back a retort, but Sarah Lyons made a slicing motion with her arm.

"_Both_ of you, cool it!" she commanded sharply, glancing back and forth between the furious, stubborn scribe and Vault-dweller. "I need us all to have clear heads!"

"And _now_ she chooses to take charge," Rothchild retorted sarcastically, his arms crossed harshly across his chest. He rolled his eyes. "Our hero has arisen!"

Leah stormed across the room and had him lifted by the collar before Charon managed to reach her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her back across the room, away from the old head scribe. "Calm," he rasped in her ear.

Sarah Lyons snarled, "Are you two serious?" as Rothchild straightened his robes with a snort of shaking rage. "We have a bigger problem than this to deal with! Vault-dweller," she called, nodding indicatively at Butch where he sat in front of her, "tell me everything one more time."

"What, you deaf?" Butch spat, clutching at his bandage-swaddled chest as the action laced him with pain. "Fine. They grabbed me and took me to that little hideaway. Beat the shit out of me if you hadn't noticed!"

"Move it along, Vault-dweller!" Rothchild hissed. "Why exactly did they want you?"

"I'm getting' there, you rotten, old fool!" he screamed back, not noticing Leah as she struggled in Charon's hold to leap for Rothchild's jugular. "They wanted our Pip-Boys! They want to use 'em for some weapon they got! Some weapon they can use to kill the shit out of you guys so that they can get back the Citadel and 'reclaim the Brotherhood name.' The fucker in charge – Maslin, Aslan, Casdin, whatever – he said he's tired of dragging his men through the mud while you guys, the Brotherhood, get to live all hoity-toity while taking a shit on the Steel name. That's all I managed to hear before they realized I could listen in and started using my body as a punching bag." As if as evidence, he inhaled and spit onto the tile, the saliva reddened with blood.

"That's not good," Charon muttered in an awkward attempt to calm Leah down, tightening his arms even when she stopped thrashing.

"What, this Outcast thing or my internal bleeding?" Butch remarked dryly.

"Er, both."

"Shut up!" Sarah ordered, rubbing her temples as she resumed her pacing. She spun on her heel and speared the old man with her steel gaze. "What do you think?"

"I think it's ludicrous, absolutely –,"

"I wasn't actually really asking for you _opinion_. I wanted to know how willing you are to help me pull our men together. They want to try and boot us out of the Citadel? They can fucking try it. My father may be dead, but now they have _me_ to deal with." She cracked her knuckles ominously, and as clichéd, as silly as it may have seemed, Leah had never found the Lyons daughter so intimidating or so goddamn lovely.

The Lone Wanderer leapt to her feet, grinning ear-to-ear. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" she asked excitedly.

"You bet your ass. If they were planning to come here –," she glanced at Butch for confirmation; he nodded, so she continued, "then we meet 'em head-on. We can't chance them getting this close and trapping us in. We're going to need to divvy up our men. Leah!" she barked.

"Yes, ma'am," Leah replied, snapping to attention at once.

"You're my second-in-command and lead advisor. I don't care what you have to say about Brotherhood protocol, Rothchild! This is no time for protocol! Va – Butch!" she called, correcting herself at the last moment.

Butch didn't sneer back, mollified by her correction. They hadn't exactly gotten along since their meeting. "Yeah?"

"Any Outcast ETA?"

"Any what?"

She groaned in frustration. "Come on, people! What do they teach you in those Vaults, how to knit tea cozies? Any idea how soon they'll head out?"

"Now that they don't have me or Leah, probably not for a while," Butch grumbled, stung by her jab at his knowhow. "And hey, I know plenty of stuff like –,"

"Save it for later," Leah advised, pulling out her map from her bag as Charon grabbed a corner table and set it down in the middle of the room. Leah slapped her map out across the old, cracked wood and they all four – Brotherhood elder and head scribe, two-century-old ghoul, and Vault Hero – leaned down over the tattered paper.

"If they're holed up here," Leah muttered, pointing at Bailey's Crossroads, "and we're here," she slid her finger over to the Citadel, "that's probably about a day's trip, tops."

"How can that possibly be?" Rothchild demanded in shock.

"They have trucks, Rothchild. Like the one we showed up in – only more. God knows how many more," she grunted, deep in thought. "That doesn't leave us much time to fuck around. They could decide to come at any time. Whatever weapon they were trying to get us to help with or not, they still have a lot of firepower. Tech I don't think you guys have," she admitted cautiously.

"No, you're right," Sarah agreed at once. "We've got numbers, but they have the superior firepower."

"This is all crazy," Butch groaned, wincing as he sat up. "I tell you guys the Outcasts want to kill everyone here and you don't even blink an eye?"

"No time for blinking," Sarah scolded him sharply, eyes still glued to the map before her. "Do we set up camp halfway there? Wait for them to come?"

Charon was already shaking his head. "Respectfully, perhaps not a good idea. While they'll have all their weaponry and men clustered in one spot, it might be best if we leave as soon as possible. We can trap them in their base. The elevator will make it more than easy enough to pick them off."

"You're right."

The door burst open and they all looked up to see an initiate come skidding into the room, panicked and out of breath. "Elder Lyons!" he panted, snapping into a swift salute. "Two Outcasts . . . at the front gate! Bael . . . holding them there!"

"Oh, shit," Butch gasped as everyone else instantly flew into action.

"Leah, Charon, let's go! Rothchild, ready the scribes just in case! Vault-dweller, try not to die while we handle this!" Sarah Lyons marched out of the room, everyone else filing behind her. A few of the Pride members were assembled out in the hallway, all of them looking to Sarah with expectant eyes. "All of you, take up your defensive positions! Nobody follows me out to that gate but Leah and Charon, but I want cover if things get nasty, got it?"

They all gave murmurs and nods of ascent before scrambling away to get their weapons. Leah was clicking the plates of her armor into place as Charon ensured that her Gauss rifle was loaded and ready. She accepted it with a grin and a wink, the fringes of her lashes seemingly darker as her eyes shone with her excitement. They tangled their fingers together and rushed after Sarah's determined march out of the labs and out into the open, moonlit courtyard. Bael stood at the opposite end beside the Robobrain and two men in power armor. Their weapons were safely on the ground behind the Robobrain.

"What are they thinking, coming here when we know they're up to something?" Charon hissed under his breath. "We could have killed them on sight."

"It's only two of them," Leah reasoned just as quietly back. "Maybe they're bringing a message."

"Shh," Sarah snapped. She gestured for them to hurry up and they quickened their pace through the cold night air. Charon's fists tightened around his shotgun and he shot his smoothskin a confident glance, one that filled her with heat and strength. He was sweet, and he loved her, and he'd die for her. But he was also one sick, twisted, violently dangerous son of a bitch. And God, did she love that about him.

"Bael!" Sarah barked. The paladin snapped to attention and saluted her, gesturing afterward at the two helmeted figures.

"These two came strolling up, Elder Lyons, their weapons stowed. Demanded they talk to . . . erm, Knight Montgomery."

Leah, who had been sizing up the two Outcasts suspiciously, grew instantly rigid. "Who wants to see me?" she demanded. "Because you two have a lot of balls kidnapping my friend, nearly beating him to death, and then strolling up to the Citadel like you have a say in things."

The two men exchanged a darted glance, almost as if nervous.

"Well? Out with it!" Leah cut out at them, her hand twitching at the trigger of her Gauss rifle. "I have little patience with Outcasts nowadays."

The man on the left – the taller one – began to raise his hands. Every Brotherhood member in the vicinity lifted their weapons in response. "Hold it, Outcast!" Sarah Lyons roared. "Nothing funny!"

"I'm just taking my helmet off . . . ma'am," the tinny, helmet-distorted voice replied evenly. "Unless you'd like to take it off for me?"

"Watch your cheek, Outcast," Leah spat. "Off with it, then."

The man ducked his head once in compliance and unlatched the release on his helmet. It let loose with a loud snap and he lifted the large metal gear from his head to reveal a stern, hardened face beneath a brutally short cut of orange hair. The Outcast lowered his helmet to the ground and lifted his hands in surrender. "Nice to see you again . . . Miss Montgomery. You helped me in my time o' need. I'm here to return the favor. So is my associate." He gestured at his partner.

With a deep, exhausted sigh that confirmed Leah's inkling of suspicion at his identity, the second man jerked his helmet from his head in the same fashion and let it drop unceremoniously to the cement ground, where it landed with a clang. The dark-haired, handsome man shook his head, dark eyes meeting blue. "Shit's really hit the fan now, hasn't it, Vault Girl?"

Everyone turned to stare at Leah. The Lone Wanderer had her face bowed low, thin fingers delicately rubbing at her temples. When she looked back up, she met Sarah Lyons' gaze with a tired smile. "Do you have any tea we can set out for our sworn enemy guests here?"

Sarah Lyons shook her head, but lowered her weapon. After a scathing glance at the Outcasts, she turned and began to stomp away. "Anybody but you, Leah, I swear on my father's grave," she grumbled. "I'll have an initiate prepare coffee in my quarters in five minutes. I'm going to have a smoke before all this tension gives me a heart attack."

"Or worse," Charon added ominously, relieved that the two "visitors" had not been enemies – and that they might be able to provide insight on the rest of the Outcasts' plans. "Prematurely gray."

Leah stared at him in amazement, a cigarette suspended, trembling, between her open lips, her lighter cupped in her hands. She burst into laughter, tears streaming down her face. Rockfowl snatched the cigarette and lighter as they fell from her grasp and quickly scooted away as the Lone Wanderer and her ghoul nearly collapsed in hysteric laughter.

* * *

Of all the places William Andrew McGraw had expected himself to be in his hopefully long lifetime, in the Brotherhood of Steel elder's quarters living room among plates of food and coffee was not one of them. And as his hand shook embarrassingly around the handle of a chipped coffee mug, sloshing the hot, dark substance dangerously close to the rim, he considered whether or not he'd made the right choice.

And then he remembered watching Casdin beat the shit out of the Vault-dweller that was wheezing away in the corner, even as the poor kid had been gargling pleads for mercy, and his purpose solidified in his mind. He set his mug down – ridiculously enough, onto a _coaster_. Coasters, for steel's sake! Ludicrous!

He cleared his throat, catching the attention of everyone in the room: Leah, draped precariously over her ghoul's lap for lack of sitting room; Rockfowl, situated awkwardly beside them on the couch; the new Elder Lyons, pacing anxiously beside the Vault-dweller in his chair. God, McGraw felt nervous. He was a protector, for steel's sake. Okay, well, maybe not after he'd just gone and mutinied against the one man who could make his life a living hell, but all that leadership had to count for something! Surely, he could stand his ground and address a room of five people!

McGraw heaved unsteadily up to his feet, clearing his throat again and setting his shoulders. "Thank you for the, ah, refreshments." His eye caught the Vault Girl stifling a smile in his peripheral vision. Oh, she was going to pay for her amusement at his misery. "So, as I'm sure you know by now, the Outcasts want to take you guys down. It's a goal that Casdin is dead-set on, and one that both Rockfowl and myself disagree with. Hence . . . our presence here tonight. Thanks for not killing us, by the way," he grumbled in the most grateful tone he could muster. "I don't know exactly what plots are rolling around in Casdin's head, but he's gone batshit crazy, excuse my language. He's always hated hiding away in that old fort. He said he could return us to our former glory, to the _real Brotherhood_ and, given the opportunity, he would do so as soon as possible. We always just figured he was fuckin' around. Regular leader posturing to keep people hopeful. We had no idea he was this serious.

The second one of our scouts reported that your father was dead, ma'am – and my sincerest condolences – Casdin lit up like a Wasteland fire. Radio'ed that he'd be arriving in a caravan to the Crossroads right away to set up shop underground. That we were to use the technology he brought along to track you two." He gestured vaguely at Leah and Butch, both of whom looked terribly disturbed. "Olin had figured out what he was up to. She knew it was gonna get tons of us killed. She refused to do it. He . . . he shot her." McGraw smoothed gently over his blunder, but his face was red with barely-concealed rage. "Told one of his own specialists to get on tracking you two while he had me ready the troops. It wasn't until he'd brought you in, kid, that he revealed the full extent of his plan. He doesn't want the Citadel back. He wants the _Brotherhood_ back. As in, northeast to southeast, east coast to west. The whole thing, his."

Sarah Lyons froze in her pacing, entire body going instantly rigid. Everyone in the room was silent until she found the will and energy to move again and twisted on the spot to face McGraw. "And . . . just how does he plan to not only take us, but every other Brotherhood clan across the country?" she asked, her voice reduced to a helpless croak.

McGraw pointed at Butch. The Tunnel Snake blanched and leaned back into his chair, as if he could slide through it and disappear into the room behind him. "Those Pip-Boys control a weapon. One he found while out on one of his treks. It's supposed to be able to blow the shit out of anything."

"No," Sarah whispered, pained, as if someone had just knocked the wind out of her. She fell back against the nearest wall, Butch pushing up onto his feet in concern despite his wounds. "Th-that's impossible. He can't have found . . . have found . . ."

Leah swung up from Charon's lap, disturbed by the expression on the elder's face. "What the hell is it, Sarah? Spit it out!"

The blonde looked up, blue eyes meeting dark brown across the room, an unspoken horror passing between them. It wasn't until Leah stepped in front of the elder and broke the eye contact that Sarah found the ability to speak again.

"The Reaper," was all she managed to breathe before she shook her head, and would say no more.

* * *

"Ah, yes. _Reaper_," Scribe Rothchild sneered condescendingly, throwing up air quotes, "the Brotherhood has _long_ dismissed that claim."

Sarah Lyons nodded once, giving Leah permission to grab the scribe by the robes and shove him up against the walls. "Apparently up until now, Rothchild, so unless you want the Outcasts to blow us to bits with your 'dismissed claim' of a superweapon, you'll either tell us everything you know about it, or point us to someone who can."

"I-it was just a rumor! A myth!" Rothchild blurted in fear. "It was a weapon prototype developed right before the war! It's unclear what happened to them since the bombs dropped before they could even finish manufacturing all of them!"

"I used to hear stories about it as a child, back in Lost Hills," Sarah mumbled almost incoherently, chewing on a thumbnail, "the one Reaper said to still exist. But it was just a rumor. They said even if it did exist, no one would know how to work it! Right, Rothchild?" She whirled on the scribe with desperate hope in her eyes.

"I would not know," he snapped shakily as Leah released him. He crumpled against the wall, straightening his robes with a last scrap of dignity. "It was always unclear how the Reapers even worked. What kind of interface they would need."

"But something of that caliber would blast straight through Liberty Prime, wouldn't it?"

They all looked up at the robot as if in lamentation. Losing LP would be a severe hit to their firepower. It would give the Outcasts a firm upper hand.

"It's possible," was all Rothchild could manage between his gritted teeth.

"Damn it," Sarah swore, beginning her pacing again. "And you're _sure_ he's found this weapon?" she pegged McGraw.

The ex-Outcast nodded quite sincerely. "Otherwise he wouldn't have involved Leah. She was too high of a risk, but he needed to have two Pip-Boys, just in case using Butch to try and power it would kill him. Sorry," he added as an aside to the Tunnel Snake.

Butch scoffed, his pride already wounded as he'd had to be carried down by Charon and plopped into a wheelchair. "I made it out alive. That's good enough."

"That's well and great," Leah snapped at them all, "but I need to know _everything_ about the Reaper before we take the next step!"

"There's a terminal in the upper labs," Rothchild gasped, still catching his breath. "The password is ElderRoth – wipe that _smirk_ off of your face, Montgomery! It should have every bit of rumor we've managed to glean from word-of-mouth about the Reaper over time."

"Leah –,"

"Already on it," Leah replied, grabbing Charon's hand.

* * *

_Hello, and thank you for purchasing the Remotely Executed, Atomically Propelled and Engaged Rocket – otherwise ominously known as the R.E.A.P.E.R. It's not going to be a light task, operating your very first Reaper, but you can be guaranteed satisfaction or your money back! The arming and engaging or your Reaper will be the simplest thing you ever do._

_First, you will need to ensure that your Reaper is set up firmly in a flat, outdoor foundation. A nice plot of dirt is perfect for your Reaper. Next, you will need your Interface Device. This can range from a simple Communicator to one of those new Pip-devices! Notice how the Reaper is long, rocket-shaped, tapered off at the end, and on the obtuse-angled side, there is a small screen. You'll want to find the cord included with the large crate the Reaper was shipped in. Connect this cord to both your Interface Device and the Reaper screen. You should receive an access menu at once. It will take a few moments for our satellites here from Acu-Tec to locate you, but once they do, a map will pop up with surrounding locations within two hundred miles. You need to simply zoom in and select a location. Next, you return to the main menu and select the Engage option. Now you will want to remove the remote device from under the screen. Unplug your Interface Device, keep the remote device, and retreat to your nearby bunker. Once everyone is secure, you need only press the singular button on the remote device to loose the rocket._

_The only step left is to Reap the benefits of your hard work!_

* * *

Amata used her hand to shield the dying sun from her eyes, squinting past the grit of dust and wind. She'd told the others to head on inside already. It was hard work, trekking around through the Wasteland. Leah hadn't been lying when she'd said it wasn't the same. Not for the first time, Amata found herself doubting all the decisions she'd made. Perhaps sending Leah away hadn't been the best for the Vault. Her best friend was a goddamn hero. She could've kept them all alive singlehandedly. And Amata had pushed her away. Banished her. As much as it hurt to admit it, Butch had been right.

Amata couldn't even give the remaining Vault-dwellers any purpose for meandering around out here. They were simply exploring, every day a little further, trying to get their bearings around the Wasteland. She turned on her heel and headed back for the craggy hill where the old, cracked door was hidden. She was just grabbing at a handhold in the rock-face when something strong and cold hooked her around the waist. She was yanked backward, the wind knocked out of her. She gasped for breath as something sharp slid into the skin of her shoulder.

"Objective secured, Protector."

"Good," a cold voice hissed as Amata slumped against someone's chest. "This one does _not_ get away. Am I clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

* * *

**All right, you guys have every right to yell at me for taking my sweet time on this one! As I've told Pattyn and DaLover (who was sweet enough to send me a PM to make sure I wasn't dead!) writer's block has made me its bitch and finally, _finally_ the humiliation has ended. **

**BIG thank you to Pattyn! Her writing always makes my day and her new chapter is just what I needed to kick my butt into action. You can thank her for this chapter haha. Otherwise I might've lazed about even longer. God forbid.**

**DaLover, you're such a sweetheart! I can't thank you enough. Your message was so thoughtful. I'm happy to finally have this chapter up for you :)**

**Ryuzaki-Candy, The Fearless Fox, lightan117, Neonblackbird, LadyWillow, FanfictionFan360, and Anastasia: THANK YOU! Your reviews keep me going, they really do. There's nothing like knowing people read and enjoy what you write! So thank you, you guys are of the utmost importance to Leah and Charon and me! :)**


	18. Tomorrow, Together

Amata woke to the sound of boots marching officiously over metal, a rough voice demanding attention and diligence. It threw her back to her childhood, sitting in her dad's big, uncomfortable chair while he paced around the room and lectured her.

But it wasn't the same.

Whatever they had drugged her with still clouded her senses, made her body heavy and hard to move. Her chin drooped uselessly against her chest, her body limp against the cold, metal chair beneath her. Her vision went in and out of focus, the tan expanse of her body – clothed only in her underwear – blurring at the edges.

The looming, dark presence sauntered ever nearer, grabbed hold of her arm by the wrist. She slid forward and the man had to catch her before she collapsed. Supporting her by her arm, he inspected her Pip-Boy, tapped a few buttons, mumbled something to another man standing obediently in the doorway. He then placed her arm back at her side and callously pushed her back into a sitting position with a rough push to her shoulders.

She watched them leave with just enough coherency to register that she wasn't going to survive whatever they had planned for her. Then sleep overtook her – and she fell blissfully into its grasp

* * *

To say that it had been a busy couple of days would have been a gross and inequitable understatement. And the workloads certainly hadn't improved any over time.

McGraw was stuck down in the armory, bickering back and forth with Knight Captain Durga. His orders – _orders!_ – were to relay to the stubborn quartermaster every last piece of tech he could recount at both the Crossroads and the Fort. Needless to say, it was a nearly impossible task and the knight captain's surly attitude certainly wasn't helping matters any. With a frustrated huff of breath, McGraw shoved the pad of papers through the tiny opening of the armory to the other side where the quartermaster sat – the fact that she couldn't trust him enough to open the gate, even to make her job easier, was just another thorn in his side. Truth be told, lumbering around through distrusting glares all day, stripped of the title and red power armor that gave him both power and respect, hadn't been a walk in the park. He was on Brotherhood ground now – and under Brotherhood orders. Sarah Lyons said jump, he was already in the goddamn air.

Knight Captain Durga snatched the pad of paper from him and scanned it, dark eyes flashing furiously over every last line of his hasty scribbling. "You write chicken scratch," she informed him in a snap, flipping to the next page, "and this can't be right." She scratched out a few of his words and slid the journal back. "How can the Outcasts possibly only have _two_ Fat Man's? Or are we overestimating them and can we win this battle with a bat of our long, pretty eyelashes?"

McGraw gritted his teeth to restrain a curse and took the notepad back. It would all be worth it, so worth it, he told himself, when he could see the cold strength wiped from Casdin's face as Sarah Lyons sent him to a swift death.

* * *

"Charon, I need your help here!"

The ghoul only vaguely registered that someone was calling his name as he watched the love of his life walk away with a man who would have gladly torn her clothes from her body and made fierce, passionate love to her right there on the cold, hard ground. Sure, they were going to go discuss an upcoming battle and yes, she had told him many times that he was the only one for her, but damn it if he didn't –

"God _damn_ it! CHARON!"

A small, thin hand whipped across his face, the sharp sting bringing him very abruptly to attention. A low growl rolled through his throat as his eyes focused onto the tall, blonde human in front of him. "Elder or not, slapping an ex-slave ghoul in the face is a very dangerous thing to do," he warned her with narrowed eyes.

Sarah Lyons rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, like being a ghoul is any qualifier nowadays. The ex-slave part I'll give you – and the six-five part I'll _definitely_ give you. But what I need _you_ to give _me_ is assistance loading the truck."

"I thought Fawkes and Gob were helping you," Charon replied reluctantly, his eyes flickering over to the hallway Leah had disappeared down.

"Leah has a job to do and so do you," Sarah answered at once, catching onto his distraction. "He's not going to touch her. She only has eyes for you."

The ghoul glanced back to her face, expression guarded.

"Oh, don't act like you don't know it. Come on." She tugged his arm and, grudgingly, he allowed her to tow him toward the courtyard. "And yeah, they _are_ on it, but I'm still hesitant to let Fawkes alone around the other Brothers. Don't give me that look! I trust him and Gob! It's the Brothers I don't trust. I'll need you to ensure everyone that he's trustworthy and warm 'em up to the idea. After all, you'd understand his position better than any."

With a sigh, Charon acquiesced. She really did have a point.

The bitch.

* * *

"I need every inch of that base planned out."

"Yeah, yeah, I _got_ it! I've done battles before, believe it or not. I _am_ a defender."

"Were. You _were_ a defender."

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Vault Girl. _You_ used to be a little Vault brat."

"Still am, too."

"Hand me that pen."

"It doesn't have to be da Vinci status, but a comprehensible sketch would be nice, so we can at least plan out where everything is. My team is in charge of rushing in and taking care of that Reaper."

"Wait, what does 'taking care of' mean?"

". . . I'm not sure yet."

"Lyons didn't tell you?"

"No, Sarah . . . wants me to save it, for the Brotherhood to use."

"And you want to destroy it."

"Please, Rococo, get this blueprint done. Sooner the better."

"I'm working on it. I can talk and draw. Why would you destroy it?"

"Because we don't need it! Whoever has it will have complete control of the Capital Wasteland. No one should have that much power. The Brotherhood of Steel is doing as good of a job taking care of the surrounding settlements as it can. If it had that much power, what would it do with it?"

". . . I don't know. They could keep it for emergencies?"

"What kind of emergencies? What other faction would be big enough to warrant a nuclear explosion?"

"All right. You have your point. Kind of. I still feel a bit iffy about it, though. It might be the last one in existence."

"I know. That's why I'm hesitant, too. I still haven't made up my mind."

"That's your decision, Vault Girl. I'm not good at those kinds of things."

"Apparently you're also rubbish at drawing."

"It's a sketch! You said not da Vinci status!"

"I also said comprehensible! Give me that! Here, like this. Can you _draw_ a straight line?"

"Fuck you."

"Right back at ya, buddy. Why don't you just _tell_ me the complete layout – and _I'll_ sketch it out."

"You're lucky you're gorgeous. Anybody ever tell you that?"

"Every day of my life."

". . . figures. That asshole."

* * *

Head Scribe Rothchild wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. It wasn't for the first time he found himself wishing the damn robes weren't so thick. The cloth didn't breathe at all, so times like these when he was trapped in the library at full capacity – all terminals running, every scribe hustling and bustling and creating more body heat – it was absolute hell.

"I've found another one, Scribe Rothchild!" Jameson cried ecstatically, also taking a moment to rub sweat from her eyes. Rothchild swooped over to her terminal and looked over her shoulder as she scrolled through an ages-old personal log from one of the Acu-Tec developers.

"Good, that's very good!" he sighed, handing her the disk he'd been compiling information on. "Save it with the rest. Mont . . . _Paladin_ Montgomery will want to see it." The words still tasted bitter on his tongue, but the Brotherhood wouldn't survive a battle if it couldn't get over an internal strife. Even a stubborn man like him could see it.

It didn't mean he couldn't hate it, though.

* * *

Paladin Kodiak was also feeling the heat. He used the hem of his T-shirt to wipe sweat from his forehead, nearly losing his balance where he stood precariously in the bed of the truck. He shoved a few boxes of weapons into a better position before blindly reaching back to get another. His fingertips touched wood and he turned to grab hold of the box.

He nearly had a heart attack.

The super mutant had the heavy box supported easily in one hand, his other scooping up two more. He nudged the box toward Kodiak's limp arms, indicating that he should grab it.

The yellow, rough, muscled skin and large body were enough to make anyone nervous. But there was something in his eyes, thick and ember-like, that brewed and waited and craved understanding. An intelligence. An emotion. It cracked through Kodiak's rigid self-defense and warmed his frozen limbs until the paladin could finally hitch the box into his hold and add it to the others.

He could've been imagining it, or the mutant could have actually peeled those dry lips back into a brief smile.

_The heat_, Kodiak decided, shaking his head and grabbing another box, _it's that damn spring Wasteland heat, messing with my mind._

Charon could nearly read the man's mind from where he stood supervising beside Gob. The two ghouls exchanged a knowing glance, before Gob shook his head and moved in to continue packing crate after crate into the bed of the truck.

It wasn't the heat.

Times were changing.

* * *

They all gathered together that evening in the mess hall for dinner. Most of the Brotherhood had already come and gone through. Their team had worked a long day. Luckily, plenty of food had been left out on the table for them. Most likely Scribe Jameson's doing. She was remarkably considerate – a "sharp motherly instinct," Sarah Lyons informed the others in an exhausted tone as she dropped down into a chair and pulled a plate of brahmin steak toward her.

Gob, Leah and Rockfowl were already eating, discussing blueprints and battle plans ardently between bites of food. Smudges of ink were smeared here and there over her porcelain skin, and her fake-prescription glasses were still in place, albeit blurred through the anxious rubbing of her fingertips over the smooth surfaces of the lenses. Gob listened attentively as she filled him in on the plans she'd configured to reach the Reaper where it lay at apparently the heart of the base. Rockfowl had informed her that it sat on a platform that could be raised up to surface level, and to reach it she would have to battle through the entire base.

She was lost in conversation until the door opened once more and everyone fell silent. Like the others, she rotated in her seat to greet the newcomers.

Fawkes's torso took up much of the doorway. Sarah Lyons, Scribe Rothchild, Rockfowl and the handful of paladins and knight captains left in the room all warily watched as he squeezed through and plopped down against the far wall, purposefully out of the way. Sarah Lyons grabbed a plate and leaned back in her chair to hand it to him, smiling through her exhaustion. "The Brothers eat together, friend."

Fawkes took the plate with a gentle smile. "Thank you."

Leah would have been touched, if she'd been paying any attention. But she wasn't, because precisely at that moment Charon walked in, dead tired and covered in dirt from the heavy lifting outside. A thin, torn white T-shirt clung lovingly to his torso, tracing oh so sweetly all of the muscles Leah hadn't had a chance to properly see since this whole fiasco had started. The ghoul stepped into the room and gestured in gratitude toward Fawkes, dipping his head. "Thanks for the help. It seems like everyone is warming up to you."

"I have an eternal gratitude to you for that, friend," Fawkes replied steadily, sounding as heartwarmed as a mutant possibly could.

Charon tugged at his armor pants, dreading how heavy they felt on him after the long day of heat and exertion, and scanned the table. He stopped moving when he saw Leah, a smudge of black ink on the side of her nose, hair pulled back into a messy bun. He smiled at her.

She smiled back.

"Oh, cut it out," Sarah said, rolling her eyes. "Take a seat, please, Charon. I have a lot of things to say."

The ghoul took his place beside Leah, leaning over to graze her ink-stained cheek with his lips as Elder Lyons rose to her feet. The blonde cleared her throat and laced her fingers over the edge of a chair, as if for physical support.

"We all know what the battle plan is, but there are some details to hammer out. You all know that we need to move out soon. What I didn't tell you is that we move out tomorrow."

Chaos, erupting immediately all along the table as everyone exploded in outrage and fear and uncertainty.

Sarah Lyons lifted a hand and, reluctantly, everyone fell silent. "I know it's a surprise. But the sooner we move, the better chance we have of catching them off-guard. Durga, McGraw, have you had any success comparing our tech?"

The redhead and quartermaster exchanged a glance – and quickly looked away, faces twisting into two identical scowls. Leah barely held back a snort of laughter. McGraw eventually cleared his throat and flipped open a pad of paper on the table in front of him. "From what I can remember and from Knight Captain Durga's inventory, the Outcasts have only a small amount of weaponry more than we do. I'd say that, combined with both the element of surprise, higher man count, and superior position we'll have, it won't be an issue."

"That's what I like to hear," Sarah praised him gratefully. She inhaled deeply and turned back to the group at large. "You heard him. The element of surprise is our biggest ally right now. The layout of the base is simple. There is a small square with an elevator in the middle. That lift is the only way in or out. If we station our groups around that square, it will be easy money picking them off as they come up." She scooped up a pile of papers on the table in front of her and handed them off to Vargas where he sat beside her. "These are the designated groups. They each have a specific job." She speared Leah and Charon with a pointed glance. "You know your jobs."

"Disabling huge atomic missile," Leah prattled off dutifully.

"And my team draws fire away from the base."

Her expression made it clear how she felt about Charon's job. He gently elbowed her in the side when she made to protest openly.

Sarah sent him a grateful look. "Right. You two have arguably the most important jobs. The rest of you are there to back up Charon's team. They're going to be taking the most fire and it's your job to make sure they make it out alive, do you understand?"

A round of nods in acknowledgement.

"My team will consist of Kodiak, Artemis, Tristan, and Star Paladin Cross," Sarah announced. The people she named all nodded in confirmation. "Leah, you've got Gallows and Glade on you. They're two of the best I've got. I'll be damned if you don't make it out of there alive. The Brotherhood needs you."

Charon leaned his face close to hers, his hand squeezing her fingers tenderly. "_I_ need you," he whispered, just for her to hear.

Leah's cheeks flushed deep red and she couldn't resist a smile. "And I you."

"Charon, you, Gob, Fawkes, and Vargas are on the draw-fire team. Vargas is the best man I've got. Keep him alive, please?"

"And Charon is the _only_ man I've got," Leah called to Lyons' right-hand man. "Return the favor?"

"It would be my honor," Vargas replied, nodding understandingly.

Sarah Lyons let a small smile flitter over her face before she barked, "Dusk and Colvin, I need you to run the paladin and knight snipers up through the abandoned buildings McGraw outlined next to the crossroads. From there, you'll have the best vantage point to cover us, understood?"

The two rival snipers both intoned affirmatives at the same time. Leah fought to keep a straight face. Being in the knight captain's presence was enough to get her blood boiling. Charon let out a sigh beside her, rubbing the palm of her hand with his thumb to indicate he was proud of her patience.

Sarah Lyons went on about the last few teams, led by paladins Leah did not know well and consisting of names she'd never heard before at all. Gunny was in charge of all the initiates. It was evident by his proud, excited smile that he was anxious to see what they could do after all of the training they'd gone through. By the time every team had been confirmed, Charon was nearly falling asleep into his plate of food. Leah nodded once at Sarah Lyons, who announced proudly, "Go get some sleep, Pride! Big day tomorrow. We leave as early as possible. We only have one truck, so we're not going to be getting there in just one day. It's going to be a long hike, and it's going to take us a while. Bael," she barked and the paladin looked up. "You're in charge while Mommy and Daddy are out camping. Don't answer the door for strangers and for god's sake, don't burn the house down."

Bael smirked and nodded with a chuckle. "I'll do my best, mother dearest."

"The rest of you, dismissed. I need you at your best and brightest." With no further ado, Sarah lifted her chin and skirted out of the room.

With a relieved sigh, Leah stumbled to her feet. She grabbed her ghoul and slung one of his arms over her shoulders. She wouldn't _dream_ of ever being strong enough to actually support him, but she could at least guide him in the direction of their room. Gob and Fawkes chuckled as she struggled to keep him awake and going. The smaller ghoul stayed in a room beside theirs and Fawkes had taken to just stretching out in the hallway. Leah wished them both good night and ducked Charon into the room. He collapsed onto the bed, mumbling something incomprehensible into the pillow.

"You'll have to speak louder, love," Leah snickered, pulling her dingy tank top up and over her head. "I don't speak pillow-muffled-talk."

Charon braced his hand against the bed and managed to roll himself over with a dramatic grunt of effort. "I said," he clarified in an exaggerated pant of exertion, "that I love you."

She smiled, turning on the spot with a large, tattered towel draped around her body. "I love you very much."

"Where are you going?" he grunted, watching her slip on an old pair of flip-flops.

"Shower," she replied flippantly, grabbing a bar of soap from a nearby shelf. She glanced at his confused, hunched form all strewn out across the bed. "It's going to be the last time I can shower for a while. I'm taking the opportunity. You're tired, though. You should sleep."

Charon sighed, shaking his head. "No, no. I can't let you do that."

"Oh?" Leah paused with an intrigued smile, blue eyes flashing in the darkness of the room as she watched her ghoul sit up. "And why not?"

He was already on his feet and moving across the room toward her. He drew her body against his and nuzzled his face into the curve of our neck. "This could be our last night together," he murmured roughly against her skin. He pulled back so that he could meet her gaze, brought his hand up and gently brushed his fingers along her cheekbone. "I'm not spending it asleep while you get clean. I'm so tired I could drop dead, but I love you, Leah Montgomery, and I'm not letting you run off on a dangerous, life-threatening mission until I've had my fill of you."

She gaped at him, her mouth suddenly very dry, and struggled to wet her lips. "Well, when you put it that way," she whispered breathlessly. The words had barely left her mouth before Charon swung her up over his shoulder. She let out a piercing, wild giggling shriek as he threw open the door and stepped out into the hallway. Fawkes looked up briefly and smiled as he watched the humongous ghoul carry the twenty-two-year-old love of his life down the hall and into the bathrooms. He was happy that they had accepted him into their life, and he was happy that they were happy.

And he'd be happy if they could keep it down so he could get some sleep.

* * *

They showered slowly, their hands thoughtful and meticulous as they drifted, slick with soap, over each other's bodies. They took their time, because times were changing, but this would always be the same. They savored, cherished, treasured every second of touching each and every last inch of their bodies, of her lithe fingers twirling designs over his rough, ruined skin, of his broad hands warming her from the outside in, his low voice murmuring soft words that didn't matter but heated her within nonetheless.

When the water had run cold, and she began to shiver from the temperature drop, he dressed himself, and draped her in a towel, carrying her back to their room cradled against his chest, her face hidden against his neck, where she whispered that she loved him. By the time he had gotten them back into the room and closed the door behind him, her eyes were drooping closed. With a tired chuckle, he situated her, towel and all, beneath the covers of the bed and slid in beside her. His gentle, cuddling position made it clear he had no intention of anything more that night.

She blinked her eyes open and peered blurrily up at him. "Not getting your fill of me?" she mumbled quietly.

He smiled and shook his head, drawing her closer so that she could rest her cheek on his warm, bare shoulder. "I can never really get my fill of you. And you're exhausted. We don't need to have sex tonight."

"Mmn, but I do like it."

"I would dare to say that I _love_ it. But I think we're both too tired for it right now. Even if we were to get ourselves worked up, it probably wouldn't be very good."

"That's what I love about you, you know? Your subtle way with words."

"Shut up and go to sleep, my smoothskin. We have a long trip tomorrow."

She yawned and settled against his chest. He made a small noise in the back of his throat, and, as she closed her eyes, she could feel his fingers twine gently through the dark strands of her hair. She smiled against his skin, snaking an arm around his waist.

They were staring headlong into an all-out battle between the two biggest factions in the Capital Wasteland. And she couldn't feel it, not as she took comfort in the warmth of his body, how tenderly he held her, his soft breath on her neck.

In the dark and silent night, there was nothing but Charon.

In the dark and silent night . . . that was all she needed.

* * *

**Big thank you's to everyone who reads and reviews! Even just reading is a wonderful gift. As always, a huge thanks to Pattyn. I got your review e-mail notification while I was driving home today and I risked ma life to read it. That's actually really dangerous and I don't suggest it to any of my readers. But it was worth it, because it made me laugh. As soon as I thought what to name the "super weapon" I knew I had to put that line in there, and I knew you'd appreciate it ;)  
****  
****Thank you always to all of you! Hope you enjoy!**


	19. Nearly There

_I've got some less than happy news today, my children. By now you all know about those heroes the Brotherhood of Steel, and those rascally Outcasts. Well, word on the Wasteland is there's a storm brewin' between these two groups. Even ol' Three Dog doesn't know exactly what's goin' down, but anybody around the southern part of the Capital Wasteland should probably find somewhere else to camp out for a while until this whole thing blows over. _

_To make things worse, children, I've been told our dear, old Miss 101 is involved in the whole thing. My sources inform me she was seen ridin' off with her trusty ghoul Charon in that truck of hers from her new home at Tenpenny Tower, where she recently moved in with her gaggle of children._

_If anyone can help clear this bad air up, it's her, folks. Let's wish her luck. Who knows what we would do without her_

* * *

Penny gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth as the Three Dog's voice faded into another one of his smooth jazz songs, frozen where she stood behind the counter of what was now her brother's saloon. She quickly locked the cash register, fumbling with the old, rusted key, and dashed around the edge of the counter towards the stairs. "Joseph! Joseph!"

There was a cry of surprise, a few loud _thumps_, and then her brother burst out of the room he shared with Maggie, bare-chested, his shirt clenched in a fist, and his pants on backwards. His thin chest heaved as he gasped, "What is it, Penny?"

"Leah! There's something bad going on with Leah! It was on the radio!"

Joseph cursed under his breath, pulled his shirt on over his head, and followed his frantic sister down the steps. "I tell you, only Leah. Only fucking Leah. . . ." He called over his shoulder to Maggie that something was wrong, his voice commanding and reassuring. He then took his sister's hand and followed her down the stairs while she informed him everything she'd heard from Three Dog's announcement. He scribbled every bit of information down onto a piece of paper while she spoke, doing his best to hide the shaking in his hands as he did so. He told her not to worry. Told himself not to worry. Pretended he could be strong enough to wait it out. And Penny smiled and nodded and flounced away to get back to the register. She believed him. Lucky her.

_What have you gotten yourself into _now_?_

* * *

"This ain't good, this ain't fuckin' good." Roy turned down the radio and started his normal pacing, back and forth across the Tower lobby.

"Language, please," Nova begged the crass ghoul, doing her best to stop herself from puking in her nerves. This whole Outcast business had blown up far larger than any of them had anticipated, and while she wasn't worried about Leah or Charon or the huge mutant, Gob had never been involved in such a big battle. She couldn't live without him. She could barely get up in the mornings without him next to her!

"Stop worrying," RJ commanded. With his hands on his hips, long, sandy hair shoved messily back from his face, a determined look hardened in his expression, you'd be hard pressed to deny that he had been brought up by Leah and Charon.

"Easy for you to say," Nova remarked benignly, sniffling to hide her anxiety. "Your parents are the toughest couple in the entire world, kid. My Gobby is just a bartender."

RJ snorted and put a reassuring arm around her shoulders. Shocked by any sign of compassion from the kid, she allowed him to give her a brief and awkward hug. "If anyone'll keep that old man alive, it's them. And they're not my parents. They're just my friends. I humor them."

"You keep tellin' yourself that, kid. See if you believe it one day."

RJ scowled and hunched down where he sat in the chair Chief Gustavo once occupied. Dirt showered from his boots when he kicked his feet up onto the desk. "Well, parents or not, Leah and Charon'll make it through this mess no problem. Same with Gob. And _definitely _Fawkes. I'm not even sure that guy knows _how_ to die, to be honest."

Nova sighed, a long and empty sound. Her gray eyes were dark with concern; the slump in her shoulders and tremor in her voice made it quite clear she was not consolable. "But if any of them _died_ –,"

"_Shut up!_" RJ hissed, abruptly sitting up in his chair. His eyes darted to the doorway to Margaret's restaurant, where Bumble stood leaning against the wall. Her lips were trembling, body perched uncertainly against the doorframe. "RJ? Is everything all right?"

The old mayor opened his arms and she ran across the lobby into his embrace. He ran his fingers through her dark hair and murmured that things were peachy-keen, everything would be fine, nothing was the matter and Leah and Charon would be home soon.

Nova settled back against the desk, nursing a cigarette. She closed her eyes and listened to RJ's voice, uncharacteristically soft as he addressed the girl that was, for all intents and purposes, his littlest sister. Just for a moment, she indulged herself with the fantasy that she was a little girl again, and she, too, could believe him.

Just for a moment.

* * *

Angela clutched her husband's hand beneath the dinner table. They made eye contact, her gaze wholly uncertain, his waveringly comforting. Reluctantly, they broke their stare to look at everyone else around the table. Their cheery, communal dinner had fallen silent after the shocking radio announcement. Everyone at the table had been affected by Leah, whether directly or indirectly. Either way, their lives had all taken turns for the better. Hell, their fresh water was all because of her and that ghoul of hers that some people only pretended to hate still out of habit.

"I owe that girl my life," Mister Lopez mumbled, shakily shoving his squirrel bits around on his plate.

"I owe her my freedom."

"My marriage."

"Our family."

"My sanity."

"My courage."

Harkness shook his head and shoved himself onto his feet, clearing his throat and getting the whole table's attention. "We've all dealt with Leah. We know how strong she is. Shall we toast to her, and reassure ourselves that, if she is involved, things will turn out well?" He held his chipped glass of stale beer up.

The rest of the table murmured statements of assent and raised their glasses as well. If anyone could save them, God knew, it was Leah Montgomery, and the ghoul that she loved.

* * *

It was still dark when the small army of Brotherhood soldiers gathered in front of the Citadel and prepared to take off.

"Well, Pride, this is it. The day we've trained for. Well, okay, before the whole Project Purity day – _that_ was the day we trained for, too, but so is today. It's not just our water at stake, men and women, it's our home. Our headquarters. Our Brotherhood name. The entire Wasteland. These Outcasts want to try and take over? Let them fucking try. And let Brotherhood of Steel soldiers generations onward know that we fought hard to defend our name, to keep it pure, to keep it honest, to keep it true! This is _our home_, and any group who disagrees can be crushed beneath our feet!

We'll need to keep it together, troops, so always wait for command, from me, Vargas, Leah, or Charon. They're in charge. Oh, and the former Outcasts are just that – _former_. Meaning not anymore. Anybody who touches, or even harasses them answers to Fawkes, who's not really a fan of discrimination."

Sarah Lyons turned to him with a triumphant smile, for confirmation that her threat held true.

Fawkes faltered, scratching his head. "Erm, Miss Elder Lyons, I am also not very much given to violence unless absolutely necessary. . . ."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he follows a Zen philosophy. Do no harm and all that," Leah threw in her two cents.

"Well, fuck," Sarah groaned. She then turned back to the rest of the Pride. "Anyone who fucks with the ex-Outcasts will answer to Charon, who does not follow any non-violent philosophy and will gladly kick your ass for being an asshole!"

Charon grinned and waved at the group, which had gone decidedly very quiet in response.

"Good enough," Sarah grumbled, stepping down from the back of the truck. She grabbed her laser rifle and pointed it to the cab. "You guys have first truck-priority. Enjoy it."

"Gladly," Charon muttered, lifting a still-sleepy Leah up into the cab, where she settled onto the seat beside Gob, who was snoring away in his corner of the seating. Charon stepped in behind her and closed the door. They looked to Sarah Lyons, who pulled up her laser rifle and shot a blast of red light up into the air.

"Let's roll, Pride!"

* * *

Crazy Wolfgang did not keep a radio on his person. He didn't see the point of it. It distracted him from the beautiful, dusty paradise around him. So many sights to see. So many people to meet. He didn't want to miss any of it singing along to any one of the handful of songs that _Three Dog_ could offer. It was just him, his bodyguard Sherry, Packy his brahmin, and the sparkling, irradiated heat on his back. He didn't need anything else.

But because he did not own a radio, Crazy Wolfgang and his crew had no warning of the small army rolling its way across half of the Capital Wasteland. The trio was just stopping for a water break when Sherry saw it.

"Wolfgang!" she gasped, nearly choking on a gulp of water, pointing off into the distance. "Am I hallucinating?"

"No, my dear," he breathed in shock, "I don't believe you are."

They shaded their eyes with their hands and, sure enough, it was a real, solid truck materializing in the distance. Many dark silhouettes of bodies surrounded the truck. At the rate of travel it was going, and the rough direction, it was certainly not hostile. If they could spot them, surely they could spot _Wolfgang_. And yet they made no move to harm them. Still, it was the Wasteland, and one could never be too sure.

"Let us take cover," he ordered, briskly shooing them behind a nearby car. He yanked the bags off of Packy's back and hid them as well. A bare brahmin was nothing to be suspicious of. He and Sherry watched through the car's broken out windows as the truck and army got closer. It was with a barely-restrained cry of shock that Wolfgang discovered familiar faces behind the steering wheel of the truck.

"Why, that's Miss Megaton! And her ghoul!" he recognized in a whisper.

"And the Brotherhood of Steel. What are they up to?"

"Lord only knows, my dear, Lord only knows. And this merchant knows that we ought to clear out of here if we want to survive it."

Sherry regarded him fondly. "They may call you 'crazy,' Wolfgang, but don't let anyone ever say you're stupid."

* * *

Rockfowl marched on, sweating inside of his power armor. He considered, not for the first time, flagging Leah down and stuffing the armor into the back of her truck. But it wasn't his first time dragging the damn stuff through the Wasteland and it probably wouldn't be the last. So he bit the bullet and kept walking.

He would have turned to McGraw for some company, but the ex-protector seemed perfectly content to lag behind and bitch back and forth with the knight captain who ran the armory. They bantered like a goddamn married couple, about stupid shit that didn't even matter. It seemed their relationship was doomed to be toxic from the start.

"Why don't you just leave me the fuck alone, Outcast?"

"It's a big Wasteland out here, Durga. You can always walk away from me if you want to."

Rockfowl rolled his eyes. Yep, it was going to be a long goddamn trip.

* * *

"Something on your mind, Elder Lyons?"

Sarah looked up to see Vargas smiling tiredly at her. "Oh, this, that, and the other," she muttered, smiling back. "Just an impending battle. You know."

"The usual," he agreed with a shrug, turning to look ahead once more. His face hardened, something she had known him long enough to catch even in the surrounding darkness. "How do you feel about this fight, Sarah? In all honesty."

She sighed, shaking her head. "We can win it. But there's always the possibility that they've found someone else who can run that thing – and then not even Liberty Prime would be able to help the Citadel."

Vargas grabbed hold of her hand for the briefest moment and squeezed. Then he let it go, and turned his face away. When he spoke again, his tone was level, as if nothing odd had happened. "Everything will be all right, Sarah."

Sarah almost staggered, but managed to stay upright and looked away as well. She couldn't deny the fact that her hand seemed colder without the short contact with his.

But she could ignore it. At least for now.

* * *

"There, ahead! Dibs!"

"Fuck that!"

Leah burst into a sprint, Charon hot on her heels. The giant radscorpion scuttling off in the distance should have been trembling in fear, because two of the Capital Wasteland's fiercest fighters were heading dead for it. It was impossible for her to outrun the ghoul, so she took out her Blackhawk and started shooting. It took four tries, but the scoped gun eventually found its mark, which Charon could not have dreamed to hit with his shotgun. The radscorpion squealed in pain and charged for them. Leah stowed her .44 magnum and pulled out her combat knife. She glanced down at Charon's legs as he made to pass her and nudged his left ankle mid-stride. It knocked into the other, tripping him over. With her new advantage, Leah sprinted the last distance to the furious scorpion, dodged the jab of its stinger, and plunged her blade into the back of its head. Letting loose one last cry of pain, the beast crumpled to its death. Leah was wiping her blade clean on her pants when she turned to see Charon climbing to his feet.

The ghoul spat a mouthful of dust onto the dirt, glaring at her. "That was cheating, smoothskin."

"Oops. Was it?" She batted her eyelashes at him, lacing her fingers innocently behind her back. "I call it 'spontaneous strategy.'"

"Yeah, well, I call it a low blow."

"I'd call something _else_ a 'low blow,'" she sang sulkily, pausing to wink up at him as she reloaded her gun.

Charon swallowed and his throat seemed suddenly very dry. "Sexual innuendo should be saved for _after_ big battles," he rasped, tugging at the collar of his armor. His eyes narrowed when she snorted with laughter, the sexy façade instantly dropped. "Tease," he spat.

"Maybe a little," she conceded, sliding her Blackhawk into a holster at her side. Her hair was coming loose from her ponytail, and she slid out her hair-band to redo it. Charon watched her fondly as she recaptured all of the long, black strands between her lithe fingers, hauling them up and into the tattered hair-band. It was an action that had first captivated him years ago, and still it somehow always managed to fascinate him. Leah glanced up, barely hiding a smile. "Ya wanna touch it?" she offered condescendingly.

Her ghoul merely scowled and inclined his head, turning away from her and staring off into the distance. He hitched his shotgun onto his back, crossed his arms, and affected pure indifference.

"I like that you like my hair," she said, elbowing him softly in the side. When he sighed and looked down at her, she grinned. "Makes me feel pretty."

Charon rolled his eyes and yanked her against his side, his arm strong around her shoulders. "You should always feel pretty, smoothskin," he rumbled softly, "if my appreciation is what makes it so."

"Yech!" a voice overhead called down at them. It would otherwise have been inappropriate to shout, but the roar of the truck's engine made yelling necessary to be heard. They both glared up at Glade, who made a retching motion over the side of the truck. "Get a room! What are you, newlyweds? Get that shit out of here!"

Vargas and Sarah Lyons burst into laughter beside him. The paladin ducked, but not in time to avoid a large stone, lobbed with perfect aim. It hit him straight in the chest, clanging against his armor and forcing him backward into Vargas, who cursed and shoved him away.

"Impressive," Gob approved with a smirk, coming up beside the couple.

"Fourteen years on the Vault baseball team." Leah cocked a sideways grin back at him.

Rockfowl cleared his throat, drawing attention to his and McGraw's presence behind the three. "I see it's done wonders for your ego."

"Oh, shut up, _Rococo_." She rolled her eyes. "At least my name's not stupid."

"She's got you there," McGraw agreed with a grin.

Rockfowl backed off with a scowl, arms crossed, a sore loser. "Yeah, whatever. You guys all suck."

The banter and bandying had gone on in much this fashion for hours. It was the only thing keeping them all sane as they walked. Fawkes seemed perfectly content to stay silent, smiling around in his own special way at the surrounding Wasteland. Surely being stuck in a small, irradiated cell for his entire life left him really able to appreciate the wastes. The rest of them, however, had to resort to idle chatter to keep from being bored to death, or focusing on the heat, or how much they were sweating, or how heavy their armor was, or how their muscles were dying from walking so far under all of the above conditions. Luckily, the sun was creeping over the horizon and slowly, the sky was darkening. Eventually, mid-argument about whether Vault life was better than Wasteland living or not (McGraw ponderingly for the 'better,' and Leah firmly disagreeing) the truck slowed to a stop. The soldiers all gathered around and watched Elder Lyons step down from the cab, running her hands through her wind-whipped hair. She cleared her throat. "It's getting dark. We should set up camp while we still have enough light to do so."

"Yes, ma'am!" many soldiers cried in response.

"Fawkes and Charon, do you mind helping to set up the tents?" she asked with a smile. "Your height and strength are invaluable."

"Yeah, they are." Leah grinned at her ghoul, hip-bumping him.

If Charon had the ability to blush, he would have been bright red. Clearing his throat of a dry lump that had suddenly lodged itself there, he tracked off after Fawkes to the back of the truck to grab the tents.

"I've never seen Charon look like that before," Gob whispered conspiratorially to her, smiling himself.

"Like he'd just swallowed a bloatfly?" Leah asked. "It's my favorite thing in the world, embarrassing Charon in public."

"You're really going to be the death of him someday."

"Hey, if he's made it two hundred years so far, I'm counting on him to make it a hundred more."

Charon scowled at her as he passed, hands full with a rolled-up tent, one hundred percent certain that they were talking about him.

Leah blew him a kiss and Gob howled with laughter.

"Cut the racket over there, Vault Girl!" Sarah Lyons barked. Leah and Gob jumped, startled. They'd been completely oblivious to the rest of the soldiers, who were milling around and all helping to set up camp. "We need your help too, you know."

"Sorry!" They leapt to grab a box of food supplies and lug it to the middle of the campsite, where Glade was using his flamer to start a campfire. As they passed Charon, neither one of them could hold back a scowl as the six-foot-five ghoul cackled at them.

* * *

Durga scraped the bottom of the tin can for bean residuals, surly, keeping mainly to herself. Any one of her fellow soldiers would have said she was sulking, except they'd probably receive a black eye if she heard them. So they generally kept busy with themselves, laughing and getting drunk around the fire, and let her do her thing. They all coped with pre-battle jitters in different ways. If the quartermaster needed some time to reflect by herself, nobody was going to say a thing about it.

* * *

Many of the soldiers retreated to alcohol in times before battle. It got them pumped, relieved their anxiety, and – usually, save for the occasional belligerent drunk – enhanced the feeling of community between the brothers. As it was, Gob was handing Kodiak a bottle of whiskey. He hiccupped, nearly tipping his plate of squirrel bits over in the process. He barked out a slurred laugh, and Rockfowl and the three paladins around him joined in.

"Can you get drunk, Fawksy?" Colvin asked the mutant.

Fawkes chuckled fondly, but shook his head. "Sadly no, but I have learned instead to become intoxicated on the serenity of my surroundings."

The other soldiers all exchanged glances, before McGraw broke the silence with, "Gob, I want whatever chem _you're_ on!"

Raucous laughter ensued, and the men all forgot the upcoming battle, any differences between them all – Outcast or ghoul or Brotherhood – and whether or not they'd survive to see next week.

"'Ey, where you goin', eh?" Glade demanded as Vargas rose to his feet. "You've barely had one drink!"

"One's enough with you assholes," Vargas muttered and they all erupted into more laughter. He smirked and faded into the darkness, while he could get away without being noticed.

* * *

After dinner Sarah Lyons was in her tent, sitting cross legged on her mattress and sifting through a messy pile of papers in front of her. She groaned quietly to herself, scribbling this and that, sketching out the plan of attack over and over again, even though she knew it was too late to change anything now, and any chances she drew out were made invalid by her fatigue and the few shots of vodka in her system.

The flaps to her tent opened behind her and she sighed. "I really don't have time to talk right now, Leah, and I don't care _how_ drunk you are or _what_ that super bitch Dusk said to you this time!"

"You have time for me instead?"

Sarah twisted around, eyes widened in embarrassment. "Oh, Vargas. Sorry."

Vargas stepped across the tent as she rose to her feet, shaking his head. "Please, Sarah. Call me Tony."

Her cheeks pinked and she looked down, brushing eraser shavings from her tattered shirt. "Erm, Tony. Sorry. I thought you were Leah. Dusk keeps getting on her nerves and she thinks that I –,"

Vargas had crossed the distance between them and pulled her into her arms before she could get out another word. His lips were soft and warm against hers as he kissed her, hands firm against her back. He tasted of whiskey, but somehow she knew he wasn't drunk. He was never the type to completely let his guard down. Not even at a time like this.

"Tony," Sarah whispered as he pulled away and leaned his forehead against hers. "We definitely shouldn't do this."

"You say that," he murmured with a small smile, "but you're also rubbing the back of my neck."

"Oh, God." She was. She _was_ caressing the back of his neck, like some kind of desperate, wanton slut who _wasn't_ in charge of an entire army and who _didn't_ need to be in complete control of herself and her men tomorrow when –

"Stop thinking so hard," he breathed and then he kissed her again, and she knew she shouldn't do it, and she knew she'd probably regret it, but his tongue grazed her bottom lip, and he was lowering her onto the mattress, and he felt so _good _and she figured, deep down, that this was _her_ way of coping. And that it was really all right with her.

* * *

Charon traced the stars with his gaze, lying back against the blanket they'd brought up. Through all of it, the slavery, the Great War, the losing and the gaining and the falling in love, they never failed to shine. Even now, he could find the big dipper, and Orion the hunter, constellations he'd looked at when he'd been a child, searching for any outlet, any way out of the pain.

The love of his life giggled beside him. She was sitting up, arms locked around her knees, watching the campfire below. They'd found a nearby ridge and climbed up with a bottle of whiskey and a blanket. Leah seemed to be really enjoying their laughter.

"Shut up. I'm trying to sleep," he grumbled.

"No you're not," she replied, turning and smiling at him. "You're looking at the stars."

He snorted. "Prove it."

"Well, I can't prove it, but someone as old as you must be fascinated with the stars, how they look exactly the same as they did two hundred years ago." She turned and flopped down beside him on her belly so that she could meet his gaze.

Charon scoffed and looked away. "Whatever."

"We can just pretend I'm wrong, then," she laughed. "How about that?"

"Good enough."

She watched his face, searching for something, some kind of emotion she couldn't find.

"What?" he griped, affecting annoyance.

"This could be our last night together," she said, playing at something he could grasp.

". . . and?"

"And what did we do last time?"

He wracked his brain. To be fair, it had been three years ago, and a ghoul with over two centuries of years can tend to forget things. When Leah's lips met his, he managed to figure out exactly what she was talking about . . . but by the time he could remember, there really wasn't any need for more discussion.

* * *

**Sorry for the delay, folks. I graduate in two weeks, so naturally work and obligations have been rolling up into a nice snowball effect of crap to do haha. Please be patient! Come May 28th, when I finish high school completely, I will have way more free time to eat up with FanFiction!**

**As always, a big thank you to Pattyn! And to DaLover and Anastasia, who are always there to review as well ;) Thank you to Eve of Destruction, Ryuzaki-Candy, Cressida Isolde for your kind words, and everyone who adds me to favorite or alert lists! That means a lot, too! **

**Thanks for reading!**


	20. Faith

Leah woke to the soft scribbling of a pencil on paper and the stale warmth of a bed whose other occupant had left some time ago. She nestled deeper beneath the blanket and mumbled quietly, murmuring a nonsensical gibberish that tilted up at the end – a clear question.

There was a dry chuckle in response. Content that he was at least still in the tent, Leah tugged the pillow closer to her. "Whad'ryou doing?" she moaned.

The scribbling sound stopped, but another kept going, a light pattering all around the tent, like tiny feet scrabbling across the surface of the tattered material. She rolled over onto her other side, blinking blearily to clear the sleep from her vision.

Charon was sitting against the wall of the tent, a pad of paper in his lap, shirtless and wearing the black pair of reading glasses she loved to see on him. He set the journal and paper down, smiling at her. "Hello."

"Mmn. Hey," she yawned, pushing herself up into a sitting position. "What are you doing up? It's late."

"Couldn't sleep. A lot of weight on my mind. Sorry if I woke you."

"Tomorrow's a big day," she whispered understandingly. Her lips twitched downward. "What's that sound?"

"What sound?" He paused and they both listened in silence to the hushing, falling sound.

"It sounds like . . . water."

"It's rain." Charon watched in amusement as wonder, and then fascination fluttered across her face. "Smoothskin?"

Leah seemed to struggle for a moment, caught in the throes of fatigue and speechless in bewilderment. She gaped, started to speak, gave up, tried again.

"What is it, smoothskin?" Charon scooted over toward her and brushed her hair back from her face.

She smiled, pressed his hand to her cheek and leaned into his touch. "I've never seen rain before."

His eyes flared. "Never?"

"Not once."

Charon surprised her by nearly leaping to his feet. He pulled her up by the hands and tugged her toward the tent flaps. "Well, then you have to see."

"Now? In the middle of the night?" she teased, amused.

"Certainly. Like you said, this could be our last night. You should spend it doing something you've never done before." He held the flaps up and she stepped through, shivering a little in her T-shirt and sleeping shorts. Charon grabbed her leather coat and followed her out into the night air. By the time he caught up to her, though, she had completely forgotten about the cold.

He smiled as he watched her step out into the middle of the campsite. She hesitated, uncertain, standing still under the sensation of rain hitting her for the very first time. She glanced back at him over her shoulder and he nodded encouragingly. That seemed to loosen something with her. She smiled back and lifted her head back. Rain pelted her face and skin, slicked her hair back, wet and sweet and cool. She closed her eyes and laughed, a brilliant sound lost in the raindrops drizzling down, soaking into the cracked earth. Feeling utterly childlike and even more carefree, she twirled beneath the droplets, absorbed their abundance and the hope that they represented. When she stopped spinning, Charon was _there_, his eyes full of some emotion, her jacket abandoned, and before she could even gasp he'd pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She clung to him with all she had, feeling the water run down her kin and his lips rough against hers and immortal in his strong hold. Here like this, kissing the love of her life in the first rainstorm she'd ever seen, utterly and completely safe, this moment felt eternal.

He pulled away and tiled his forehead against hers, his breathing somewhat ragged. "What do you think?"

"It's wet," she murmured with a lopsided smile.

He rolled his eyes. "You are impossible."

"Thank you." Her smile faded and she regarded him with some look he couldn't identify, as if she were seeing him for the very first time. Her fingers grazed his cheek, tentatively, and then she pulled his glasses off and dropped them onto the ground. He cupped her face, long fingers sliding between the dripping strands of her hair. When they kissed again, it was different. It was a burning, moving deep beneath the earth, beneath the mud under their feet, thickening the rain-soaked soil. It was desperation, boiling in their veins, tightening their bond that had burned before but never sparked, not like this, not like the heat of the sun itself.

Leah didn't realize she was crying until Charon had to pull away and ask what was wrong. She laughed shakily through a hiccup and ducked her face against his collarbone, squeezing him tight. "You won't let anything happen to me, right?"

"Not a single thing," he promised roughly. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed his cheek to hers. "I'll look after you."

They stood like that for some interminable amount of time, lost in the rain and each other. She counted the beats of his heart, one, two, three, four, five, on and on, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world. It meant that they were together. It meant that he was alive.

"If I die tomorrow –,"

"Shut up, smoothskin," he sighed, tilting her face upward by the chin so that she was forced to meet his gaze. There was some far-away thought there, in his eyes, but it faded as he regarded her with a chiding glare. "Don't talk about death. It's bad luck before a battle."

"I imagine it's bad luck all the time." Leah sniffled, nearly choking on a watery laugh. "I love you, Charon, more than anything. If anything happens to you, or Gob, or Fawkes, or Sarah, I don't think –,"

"I love you, too," he interrupted, his voice soft against her ear, "and as long as that holds true, _nothing_ will happen to you or anyone else. Do you believe me?"

"No," she admitted shakily, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. "But I can try?"

Charon sighed and chuckled, a tired sound, a loving sound. "I suppose that will have to be good enough. Now." He pulled away, frowned, rubbed a raindrop from her cheek. "Shall we go inside, or would you rather spend the night in the rain? I can speak from experience when I say that it is not as much fun as you'd think."

"You'll have to tell me that story sometime," she hiccupped, allowing him to tow her toward the tent, "but not tonight. I get the feeling it's not pleasant."

"None of my stories were pleasant," he agreed dryly as he held the tent flaps up for her.

Leah pulled her towel from its bag and together, she and Charon nestled on the old mattress in the corner, drying each other slowly, lazily, lovingly. "None of them?" she murmured, patting a few raindrops from his shoulder.

"Not until I met you," he whispered back with a smile. "Believe it or not, I have some pretty happy stories now."

"Or not," she elected and he chuckled, pulling her close. Cuddled together, still wet with rain, imaginations a million miles away, but their bodies tangled together, they closed their eyes and prayed for sleep.

It never came, but they had each other.

Whatever would come . . . they had each other.


	21. Strike of the Match

Gob swallowed hard. He was hungover, scared shitless, and trying to stuff himself into a set of armor he'd never worn before. He hoped no one would see him, because this was the second time he'd gone crashing to the floor in an attempt to stuff his legs into the stuffy metal.

"Here," a voice whispered, and then strong hands were pushing him back up onto his feet and guiding his various limbs into the suit.

"This is ridiculous, kid," he grumbled as she circled around and buckled him up into the armor.

"But it'll keep you alive, old man," Leah muttered back, "and if you die, Nova will skin me and make a purse out of my flesh."

"Ah, that's why I love her," Gob reflected with a dreamy smile.

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever keeps you warm at night. You'll see her soon enough, just do _whatever_ Charon says, okay? He knows what he's doing."

"Yeah, and apparently so do you."

"Not half as much," she sighed, seemingly with regret. "All right. Turn around, lemme see you."

Gob obeyed, spinning on the spot to see Leah with her hands on her hips, in an equally stuffy-looking suit of armor. Of course, _she_ looked like she was _born_ to wear it. Surely, he looked –

"Totally badass!" she cried, patting him on the shoulder. "You'll have to try this on for Nova when we get back. She will lose her shit. Ready?" She slapped an assault rifle against his chest and then jerked her head over her shoulder. "Come on, everyone's getting ready to leave."

Gob followed her as quickly as he could in the clanky armor through the campsite – now devoid of tents; the initiates had been woken up at the crack of dawn to take them down and pack them up – to where the group had gathered in front of the truck. Leah took her place between Charon and Fawkes and Gob squeezed in awkwardly beside her.

"We will arrive in approximately twelve hours, my Brothers," Sarah Lyons was announced. She peered officiously down at them from the bed of the truck. "We strike as soon as we get there and set up. Leah's team goes in _last_, once everyone has had a chance to draw attention away from the base so she can disable that weapon. Now let's go kick some ass!"

There was a whoop of enthusiasm. Even McGraw and Rockfowl seemed excited. Casdin hadn't been the greatest leader and it was time to put him in his place.

"Let's load up and take off, teams!"

* * *

"What are you doing?" Fawkes asked as he walked alongside the truck.

Leah didn't even look up where she sat in the bed of the truck. Her fingers were busy wedging underneath the plates of armor on her recon suit, wiggling them side-to-side with the clear intention of ripping them off. "These are going to make sneaking around a bitch and a half," she muttered, crying out in surprised when the plate came loose, nearly shooting her off of the truck.

Charon grabbed her by the wrist and hauled her back, sighing with a reluctant smile. "Please do be careful. We actually need you for this battle. I recall her saying that your job is the 'most important.'"

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled back, tossing the plate aside, "that's why I need to fix this armor. They'll hear me a mile away with all these plates on."

"This plan is not safe," Charon rasped unhappily, arms crossed fitfully across his chest, "it leaves you too vulnerable. I will not have you making yourself any _less_ safe against bullet wounds, smoothskin. Put the plates back on."

"If I can take them off, they'll never even see me. I promise."

"_Smoothskin_."

"Charon."

They met eye contact, and more was conveyed in that quick meeting of the gazes than anyone else could have ever understood. Charon evidently caved, because he looked away first and did not say another word on the subject.

Leah brushed her fingers over his arm, a tiny gesture, and returned to adjusting her wardrobe.

Gob looked extremely uncomfortable in his armor, sitting across from them on a crate. Every bump in the road made him wince, dented metal jostling his body this way and that. "How the hell do you guys live like this?" he grunted, grimacing again as they rode over a large rock on his side of the truck.

Charon actually laughed, through the sound was gruff. "Don't be a baby! What would Nova say?"

"She'd say, 'Gobby, baby, get your ass home!'" he cried in a shrill imitation of his smoothskin's voice, "'If you get hurt, where the hell am I gonna find another ghoul who can make such a mean fuckin' mixed drink?'"

Leah smiled and her heart ached for her old friend, who was probably at home, trembling with worry for the love of her life. Leah jumped a little when Charon's rough hand stroked the small of her back. He seemed to be reading her mind.

"Nothing happens to anyone," he promised in a low voice.

"Nothing," she agreed slowly.

* * *

"We're coming up to the hill. Is that all, Rococo?"

"Right hand, then left. Remember that. You have until four o' clock, so _hurry_."

"Gotcha." Leah stuck her head into the cab of the truck, squinting past the wind whipping into her eyes. "The building's just over this ridge. Pull over here."

Vargas obeyed, driving the truck discreetly behind another bombed-out building on their right. Charon leapt out from the back just as they were slowing to a stop, Gob clunking clumsily out behind him, nearly falling onto his face.

"What's the plan here, Leah?" Sarah Lyons demanded, sliding to her feet from the cab.

"They're going to have lookouts staged all over that building. You send in a few of us, a small number, full recon, and we take 'em out before they can get word to the main campsite. If we get a few of our guys in Outcast armor, we can signal back that everything's fine. It'll give us time to set up shop in the building without rousing suspicion."

Sarah took a few seconds to digest that, eyes flickering back and forth, before she slowly began to nod. "Good, that's good. We do it your way, Leah. Gallows and Glade are your team."

"And I'll take them." She glanced over her shoulder as Charon stepped up behind her. "Charon, we're going in small and quiet."

"Whoa, we're going to need Charon back here," Sarah interrupted, looking back and forth between them. "No offense, friend, but I've known you long enough to know you're not the recon type."

A feral growl started in Charon's throat, but Leah stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Don't," she whispered. "She's right. You're six-foot-five-inches and two hundred pounds of badass, bangin' ghoul. They'll see you a mile away."

Charon's scowl slowly faded and he shook his head, pressing his mouth to her hand. "Only you, smoothskin, I swear. . . ."

"Yeah, she's all that and a box of Salisbury steak," Sarah snapped, "she'll be back in no time, and you guys can mush it up then. For now, Leah, I need you and your team to get this done while the rest of us get everything ready to set up."

"I've got a plan." Leah turned and scanned the men, cursing under her breath. "I still can't tell them apart when they wear their helmets, Sarah," she whined. "How do you do it?"

"Like this. GALLOWS! GLADE!" Sarah screeched. Leah and Charon winced and ducked away from her voice.

Two men in power armor stepped forward and pulled their helmets from their heads. "Yes, Elder Lyons?" Gallows asked.

"Come talk with Leah. The rest of you!" Sarah called to the other men, "bring it in!"

Leah led them away from the group at large. "We do this neat and tidy, okay? I've got enough stealth boys to spare for our group. The rest are for our main mission." She checked her Pip-Boy. "It's three thirty. We need to get this done _by four_. That's when the main base will signal us."

"Got it."

Leah lugged down a crate from the bed of the truck, nearly dropping it on her toes in the process. Muttering a curse, she yanked the wooden top off and threw it aside. A set of combat blades and silenced pistols lay nestled inside, beside Leah's entire inventory of stealth boys. She grabbed three of each. "Take one each of these. You've all done this kind of thing before. Grab a set of recon armor like mine, we'll stealth up, and take out the lookouts in the building over the ridge."

"Sounds good," Gallows said.

"You're the boss," Glade agreed.

"All right. Suit up. I have to see a super mutant about a distraction." She stole over to Fawkes while the three men watched her go.

"You know, I kind of love her," Glade murmured appreciatively.

"Yeah, you and everyone else. Just don't let Charon hear it."

"Don't let me hear what?" the ghoul demanded, passing by with a crate in his arms.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

* * *

Defender Franklin paced back and forth, glancing out of each window as he passed them. Sentry lookout was easily the most boring part of being an Outcast. He'd rather be walking the Wasteland any day, even if he did have to lug around a partner and one of those dumb sentrybots.

"Mutant, at the back door!" Nudson called from the next room.

Franklin ran for the back windows, pulling his plasma rifle from its clasp. He reached the windows and heard the familiar roar of a super mutant, but when he spotted the beast, it was running away.

"Where the fuck is it goin'?" he shouted to the other men, aiming his rifle. "Runnin' back to hell?"

A hand clamped around his mouth, he felt the prick of a blade at his throat, and a female voice whispered, "Let me know if you see him there," before the knife slit his skin.

Leah lowered the body to the floor, careful not to let the power armor make any noise against the tile. She caught the glimmer of refracted light at her side and moved out of the way to let Glade slink past her into the next room. She heard the muffled shots of a silenced pistol and started taking the Outcast's armor off.

"All clear!" Gallow's voice called from an adjacent room.

"Put on the armor! I don't know how much time we have until they check for signals, but we're gonna be ready when they do," she replied.

"Yes, ma'am!" they all responded at once.

Leah stripped off her own armor and dressed in the Outcast reds. She was just buckling the clasp on the helmet when a movement in the distance caught her eye.

"There's your sign, darling," Glade sang, voice muffled through the helmet, pointing off toward the main camp. Leah peered through the window and saw another Outcast waving up at them from the top of the ramp.

"Wave back," she ordered, waving as Rockfowl had said, "right hand, then left!" The rest of the boys followed suit and evidently that was enough, because the Outcast nodded and retreated back to base.

"We did it, boys," Leah sighed with a grin. "Sign the others. We have our new base."

* * *

Colvin and Dusk were situated just beside the forward windows. Their rifles were loaded, crates set up full of ammo. Gunny was addressing his initiates, his booming voice keeping them strong as they waited at the ready. Sarah Lyons was talking close with Vargas, their heads bowed together.

Glade and Gallows leaned against the truck, arms crossed, waiting beside Gob and Fawkes.

Waiting, all of them waiting.

Leah slid her Blackhawk into the holster at her side and picked up her Gauss rifle. After making sure it was loaded, she slid it onto her back.

"Smoothskin."

She smiled and turned, leaning back against a nearby crate. "Yes, Charon?"

Her ghoul stowed his shotgun on his back, his face almost comically confused in a pout. "Do you feel strange?"

"Like we don't have a chance in hell of surviving without each other?" She smiled when he nodded. "Oh, yeah."

"Don't think it'll be getting any better until this thing's over with," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "So I guess we'd better get used to it."

"It might get better," she murmured, lips pulling up into a crooked grin. "How about seeing an old friend?" She hopped off of the crate and lifted the lid in one fluid motion before stepping out of the way.

Charon smirked, reaching forward to pick up the Tesla Cannon. He weighed it in his hands, put it back down to pull Leah into an embrace. "Love you," he rumbled.

"You should. It's all yours. Stay alive until I see you next, that's an order," she said, patting the side of his face.

"Only if you do, too." He kissed her fiercely, moaning under his breath. She kissed him back just as passionately before pushing him away, toward Gob and Fawkes.

"I'll see _you_ when this is all over," he promised, putting the Tesla Cannon into the truck and pulling himself up into the driver's seat. "Vargas!" he barked as Gob slid into the cab. "Get your ass over here! We've got hell to raise!"

Vargas glanced back at Sarah Lyons, shaking his head. "That's my cue."

"Break a leg," she murmured back. Her hand fisted in his armor and she yanked him into a kiss. "Good luck."

Vargas leapt up into the back of the truck and pulled his helmet onto his head. "Let's go."

With a roar from its engine, the truck's tires dug into dirt as it took off over the hill.

"Let's get ready," Leah snapped, grabbing her bag; the stealth boys clinked against each other within it. "Glade, Gallows, we need to be ready to go as soon as they clear it out. Colvin! You let us know when!" she called up to him.

The sniper nodded dutifully back. "You bet."

"And everyone else," Sarah shouted, "Charon's relying on us to get his back when they come flooding out. Are we ready?"

"Yes, ma'am!" a chorus of voices replied.

"You'd better be," she responded coldly. "Let's go show these Outcasts what happens when you piss the Brotherhood off. McGraw. Rockfowl." She gestured them over.

The two men slowly approached her.

"I want you two on me at _all times_. You make a single move against the brotherhood, I'll kill you myself," she threatened, tapping the barrel of her laser rifle against McGraw's armor. "Bullets will be flying everywhere. It's easy for _accidents_ to happen. Am I clear?"

McGraw's jaw was clenched. "Crystal . . . ma'am."

"Good. Now beat feet."

Rockfowl and McGraw exchanged a glance, before nodding dutifully and heading off to grab their guns.

* * *

"You sure about this?" Gob shouted over the squeal of the engine.

"Too late to go back now," Charon growled. "Hold the wheel."

"What?"

"God damn it, hold the wheel!" he snarled, reaching for the Tesla Cannon.

"Move, I'll do it," Vargas yelled, scooting into place past Charon. The ghoul pulled up the Tesla Cannon and leaned out of the passenger window.

"Watch this, Gob, and fucking learn," Charon hollered, taking aim as they crested over the hill. He spotted two sentries on the outer ramp and pulled the trigger. The gust of electricity zoomed out and hit right between the two Outcasts, exploding and shooting them both up into the air.

"Yeah-hah!" Vargas whooped.

Gob let out a nervous chuckle.

Charon shoved the Cannon at Gob, his face stern. "Blow a few guys up and grow a pair, 'Gobby.' Earn a couple stories to impress Nova when you get back."

"Asshole," Gob muttered, snatching the Cannon from him. "Fine. Let me at 'em."

"Up there, Vargas." Charon pointed the spot out. "We'll hit every one as they come up the elevator." He patted Gob on the back. "We get the fun job, Gob. I say we enjoy it." He kicked the door open and jumped out, simultaneously pulling out his shotgun and shooting down another Outcast that came running forward. He let out a cry of triumph, cocking his shotgun. "Let's clear the way for Leah!"

Fawkes roared and stomped down onto the ground, pulling out his Gatling laser. "For Leah and my friends!" he screamed, grabbing another Outcast by the helmet and throwing him off of the edge of the cement into the square below. "Yes! Sometimes I can feel the primal part of me, pulling me away!" he informed them gleefully.

The other three men exchanged a brief, but worried glance.

"Fawkes, is that going to be a problem?" Charon demanded as he killed another Outcast. "I don't want to have to kill you, buddy!"

"Won't be necessary," Fawkes reassured him, hoisting up his Gatling laser. The jet of red light greeted three more Outcasts who came sprinting out of the elevator.

* * *

"Protector Casdin!"

"What the _fuck_ is going on up there?"

"It's that ghoul! Two of them, a super mutant, and a Brotherhood paladin!"

"FUCK! Bring me that Vault-dweller! She's got to have alerted them or something! Put troops alpha and beta into getting _rid_ of that scum! That fucking Vault-dweller greaser must have told them something. Get the rest of the men on defense. What the fuck are they thinking, sending _four soldiers_ straight into our base?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Well _go get the fucking girl!_ We need to launch the Reaper _now_! Teach that _fucking_ Brotherhood what they are messing with. And _kill that fucking ghoul_. He's the one in charge. Maybe that will keep that fucking Vault Girl and her kind from coming around anymore."

* * *

Amata barely registered being picked up and thrown over someone's shoulder. Her hands hung limply over the man's back, bumping against his cold, hard armor. Her blurred vision twisted the world into gray and ice and steel. She shuddered through the pain and the cold, murmuring nonsense, her mind twisted into the lunacy of helpless rage.

The faceless soldier threw her down onto a flat surface, cool and impersonal. Her body trembled, beaten and broken, as she struggled to lift herself up on her quivering arms.

Boots clicked over tile, seemingly all around her, reverberating through her ears. She didn't know what they'd given her, or the last time she'd had food, or where her clothes were. She just wanted to know how much longer it would be until she died.

"If you've used that machine of yours to contact your hero Miss 101 . . . you will sorely regret it, Vault-dweller."

Amata swallowed hard, tasting blood. Her lips stretched and moved as she worked to form words. Finally, her voice seemed to come together as her mind cleared the haze long enough for her determination to solidify. She spat blood and saliva toward the direction of the voice that had threatened her. "I . . . I tell you _nothing_. I will not help you."

A ghostly chuckle, a deep and frightening baritone. "You say that now."

* * *

The Outcasts indifferently dragged the bodies of their fallen out of the elevator and replaced them, standing in perfect formation. They waited motionlessly as the elevator rumbled upward. When it came to a stop, they grabbed their plasma and laser rifles and lifted them, bracing themselves for what was waiting on the other side.

And then the doors opened.

"They've got more coming up!" Colvin yelled down to Sarah Lyons. "Two troops are coming out of the elevator!" He exhaled a small prayer and pulled the trigger, nailing one of the front soldiers right in the head.

"Kodiak, that's your team! Give them some back up and get Vargas's team to start leading them further from the base!"

"You mean Charon's team, Elder Lyons?"

"Whatever team, just hurry up! I need Leah in there as soon as possible, and the more soldiers within the harder it's gonna be for her!"

"On it, ma'am!"

* * *

"Fuck, that's a lot more than I thought there'd be!" Gob's fingers slipped on the Tesla Cannon as he attempted to reload it. The electron charge packs clattered to the floor of the cab. "God damn it!"

"Keep it together, Gob," Charon said through gritted teeth, nearly toppling out of the truck as Vargas made a sharp left turn away from the droves of Outcasts. "We've got their attention, now we need to start drawing them away!"

"I see Kodiak's group coming in," Vargas yelled back at him. "They'll cover us!"

"Good, then get us the fuck out of here!"

They passed Kodiak and his knights just as they were starting up their miniguns. The familiar, fearsome rolling clatter was a symphony of relief as their truck tore past the ramp and out into open Wasteland.

* * *

Gallows adjusted the three stealth boys hanging around his wrist, making sure none of them would fall off while he was moving. The recon armor felt insanely thin compared to his normal Lyons' Pride power armor, but it would hopefully help to keep him hidden – and alive. He felt a gaze on him and looked up to make eye contact with Glade, who looked equally out of place. The other paladin jiggled the stealth boys around his wrist and cocked his head to the side, a nonverbal question.

Gallows shrugged and jerked his head at Leah, who was turned away from them. _She knows what she's doing_.

Glade did not look reassured. He cleared his throat, drawing the Vault Girl's attention. "So . . . you ready for this?"

Leah shocked them both by bursting into a wide grin. "Boys . . . I was born ready."

* * *

**Things are getting exciting! As always, thank all of you for your reviews! Especially Pattyn, as always :)**

**DaLover, I know the last chapter was a little short, but I figured it was just long enough to get the point across. Thank you for always reviewing. You rock!**


	22. The Ignition

"Go, _go, go, go!_"

Rockfowl sprinted up the ramp away from the elevator, his heartbeat rushing loudly in his ears, blinking vainly past the sweat and blood running down his face. An Outcast came toward him with a ripper in hand. Rockfowl ducked past his swing, kicked the side of the man's leg, breaking it, pressed the barrel of his laser rifle to his side and pulled the trigger. He was hit behind by something that burned, probably a plasma rifle, and spun to quickly shoot down the Outcast responsible. He fell back into the square below with a cry of pain.

"Come on, McGraw, let's go!" he roared to the ex-protector, who was surrounded by four more Outcasts. Rockfowl shot down two of them and McGraw took care of the other two. Rockfowl grabbed him by the arm and helped to propel him up the rest of the ramp toward Sarah Lyons and Star Paladin Cross.

The elder herself had a missile launcher aimed straight at the elevator and had taken out more Outcasts than any of them could count while Cross covered her back with her laser rifle. "How many more do you think they fucking have?" Sarah demanded of them, loosing another missile. It hit home right at the opening of the elevator, just as five more Outcasts had stepped out.

"Not many! They've sent out at least six troops! At their most organized, they only ever had around ten!"

"Good, then grab a bigger gun and help me out here!"

Rockfowl gladly dropped the laser rifle for his minigun beside the Brotherhood Elder and hitched it up. It rolled to life and the spray of bullets knocked back three more Outcasts who were coming up the ramp. Much fucking better.

McGraw looked just as satisfied with his Gatling laser beside him. The clenched-tooth smile froze on his face as an Outcast rounded the corner from the elevator with a very familiar weapon in hand.

"FUCK! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!" he screamed, grabbing Sarah Lyons by the arm and sprinting away. They passed Kodiak's team, who caught sight of what he was running from and quickly joined him, picking up with Gunny and his initiates along the way. Among the shouts and yells of pain and triumph, the jets of energy leaving laser and plasma rifles, the stomping of boots on concrete, Rockfowl, who was bringing up the rear, could just hear the hiss of compressed air as the mini-nuke was loosed from the Fat Man in the Outcast's hands.

"RUN!" he bellowed, picking up the pace.

One of the initiates near the back caught his foot on the body of a fallen Outcast. Time seemed to slow down as Rockfowl watched him tumble to the ground, catch himself on his hands and knees, cry out in pain and absolute heart-stopping fear. Letting loose a roar of frustration, Rockfowl turned and grabbed the initiate by the arms, pulling him back up onto his feet. God, they needed to move, they needed to fucking _fly_, he wasn't going to look back, but he knew it was close, the mini-nuke was fucking _close_ and –

Rockfowl looked back just in time to see the mini-nuke hit ground.

* * *

"NO!" Leah shrieked, watching Rockfowl and the initiate get thrown through the air from the mini-nuke's explosion. Her body seemed paralyzed where it stood as she waited for the smoke and debris to clear, hands white-knuckling the edge of a forward window.

"_Colvin, take out that fucking Outcast!_"

"_Where's Sarah Lyons? Is she all right?_"

"_I don't know! I can't see shit through this cloud!_"

She couldn't hear any of the others through the ringing of the explosion and the frantic beating of her pulse in her ears.

_Nothing would happen, we promised, we fucking promised_, she thought desperately, reaching for her Gauss rifle as the dark plumes started to clear. "Glade, Gallows," she called, her voice booming and strong. The two men came pattering down the nearest staircase, guns at the ready.

"Colvin, how are we doing?" she shouted into the adjacent room.

"They're thinning considerably, Leah! They're coming up in groups of three or four now. There will be plenty of room for you in that elevator."

"Then let's fucking go."

* * *

Charon cursed under his breath, feeling fear clench in his gut. The mushroom cloud that had just gone off in his rearview mirror did not fucking bode well. He hoped to God it was someone from their side who had set it off.

"Another car coming up on us!" Vargas cried from where he had joined Fawkes in the bed of the truck. "We need that Cannon back here, Gob!"

The smaller ghoul quickly handed the weapon through the window to the paladin, along with a box of electron charge packs. Vargas hauled the Cannon up to his shoulder, took aim just in front of the pursing truck, and pulled the trigger. The electronic burst hit the truck square on and it immediately began to smoke as a fire erupted beneath the hood.

"Nice hit!" Charon yelled. "Now everybody hold on!" He jerked the steering wheel to the left, throwing Gob into the passenger side door with a swift curse. "We're going to start leading them around!"

"You're in charge," Gob agreed, glancing over his shoulder. "Fuck, watch out!"

Charon looked up to see an Outcast with a missile launcher, aimed straight at him. Fawkes managed to take him out with his Gatling laser, but not before he had pulled the trigger.

Panicking, Charon stomped on the brakes; at their velocity, the tires dug uselessly into muddy dirt from the previous night's rain. By then, it was too late. The missile hit just behind the driver's side door, throwing the truck onto its side in an explosion of metal and metal. The truck tumbled over, settling upside down in the mud.

Gob inhaled dirt and smoke, the smell of burning metal filling his nostrils. There was a distant, masculine scream of pain, and the sound of bullets against metal. His head throbbed and ached, the pain took over, and everything went black.

* * *

Knight Captain Colvin quickly reloaded his sniper rifle and lowered his eye back down to the scope. Leah had told him where she was going to go so he could cover her, but with those fucking stealth boys it was so hard to see and – a glimmer of light, there, by the wall. There she was!

"Scaling the cement wall!"

"On it!" Dusk called back, swinging to cover the three shimmering figures. "Fuck, that Fat Man's still down there."

There was the sound of a bullet leaving a sniper rifle from beside her, and then the Fat Man exploded in a burst twice as big as the one that had hit Rockfowl. Outcasts were sent flying through the air, hitting walls and the ground hard enough to kill, if the explosion hadn't already done it.

"Not anymore."

* * *

"Shit, shit, shit," Leah muttered under her breath as she stole against the wall toward the drop into the square below. She peered down over the edge. Any normal person would've made the jump easily. She was different.

There was a gust of wind as Glade sped past her and hopped down, the rolling glimmer of light she caught indicating he'd done a somersault to catch the impact.

"A problem?" Gallows whispered beside her, his voice almost inaudible above the clinking of Kodiak's team of miniguns and the bursts of light from Outcast rifles.

A bullet hit the Fat Man by the elevator and the resulting explosion had Glade slamming against the cement wall while Leah and Gallows were blown backwards off their feet.

"Fuck! Leah, where are you?" Gallows demanded frantically, patting the air around him in search of her.

"Right here," she coughed back, finding his hand and grasping it firmly. "I have a bum ankle," she explained fervently, "that drop will at least sprain it."

"I'll go first, you drop down into my arms," Gallows offered. Before she could protest, he rushed past her and leapt down beside Glade, whose furious mutterings could be heard even from this distance. Leah looked nervously over the edge. "Where are you?" she hissed, the explosion still ringing in her ears.

Gallows jumped up and touched her foot with his hand. "Drop straight down! I've got you."

Leah took a deep breath and shoved herself off of the ledge. She fell straight into a pair of arms, and then was slowly set onto the ground. "Thank you," she murmured, patting his shoulder. "Let's go toward the elevator. We'll wait for it to be summoned at the bottom."

They snuck quickly through the battlefield, cautious, guns at the ready. If they were spotted, they were dead. Luckily, Kodiak and Gunny's teams had returned above and were doing a good job at drawing fire. God only knew where Charon and Sarah Lyons and the rest had gotten to, but Leah hoped against hope that they were all right. The elevator doors opened and five more Outcasts rushed out. Leah grabbed Glade and Gallows by the hands and they stole quickly into the elevator. They held their breaths, and then the elevator doors closed with a ding as it was summoned from the bottom floor.

Glade exhaled when they were finally alone in the elevator. The floors and walls were splattered with blood from injured Outcasts. "Fuck. How long do these things last, Leah?"

"One hour. The timers collate and stack, so since we activated all three we've got three hours," she panted, trying to convince her heartbeat to slow back down to its normal, healthy pace. No dice.

"Where is this Reaper?" Gallows asked.

"In the very heart of the bunker. Rockfowl said there are a lot of locked doors between here and then. We're going to have to be silent and fast."

"You can unlock them, I hope."

"I can do my best."

Glade laughed, the sound decidedly desperate.

"My sentiments exactly," she agreed dryly. The doors reopened, and they slipped past the next group of Outcasts who pushed in. "This way," she whispered, tapping Gallows' shoulder. "Right, down this hallway." She padded quietly down the hallway she'd walked peacefully down with Charon only months before. She'd helped defend this bunker. She gritted her teeth in anger as she glanced at the map she'd programmed into her Pip-Boy and pulled Gallows' hand toward a door on the left. They were set off from the main hallway, which was good because the door was locked. Leah pulled a bobby pin from her hair and bent it, shoving the tip of one end into the keyhole. Her pulse beat rapidly in her ears as she turned it this way and that, trying to find the perfect place.

They all froze as another troop of Outcasts stomped by, shouting and yelling to one another. They were able to relax as soon as they'd passed, and Leah finally found the exact spot.

"Be ready for whatever's on the other side of each door," she hissed at her teammates, pulling out her Blackhawk before pushing the door open. Fortunately, the next hallway was completely empty. They cautiously crept forward.

* * *

Amata closed her eyes past the nausea, throbbing headache, and gnawing pain in her stomach. Something was wrong with her, she was sick, horribly sick. She needed whatever they'd been giving her, she'd die if she didn't get it, oh _god_, she would fucking _die_ without it.

"Pl-ease," she choked out, nearly vomiting as she was being carried yet again, this time laid out across someone's arms instead of over a shoulder. "I-I need it."

"Only after you've helped us, Vault-dweller," that cold voice hissed. There was the sound of a door opened and she was carried into yet another room. The door closed, followed by the click of it being locked shut. "I don't know how you've summoned the entire fucking Brotherhood army blowing open the doors of my base, but that will not matter in mere minutes, because you're going to help me and then you can get as much fucking Med-X as you want. Lift her up, over here."

Amata was raised up and put into a seat, her head lolling back over the top of it. She blinked her eyes open, and past the blur of pain, she managed to make out two men in full armor, staring pointedly at her. One of them held a nasty looking weapon, a long, thin blade. That must have been what they had been using on her for the past weeks, months, years, decades – forever, it seemed. She'd lost so much blood and had so many drugs pumped into her, she could hardly think anymore.

But she would not give in. Not yesterday, not today, not tomorrow. Her heartbeat seemed sluggish, felt like it was struggling, slowing over the past few days. If she could just hold out until she died . . .

"I won't," she stammered, fingers scrabbling against the metal of the chair. "I _won't_ help you!"

* * *

"Yes," Leah whispered, jiggling her way past another locked door. She swung it open and this time, there was an entire room full of Outcasts within, sitting around a large, round table. They all looked up at the opened door, waiting for whoever had opened it to show themselves.

_Fuck_. Moving on instinct, Leah moved out of the way so that Glade and Gallows could come in and locked the door behind them. "Kill all of them!" she cried, shooting the nearest one with her Blackhawk. He keeled over, dead, and she leapt past his body to tackle the next one as Glade and Gallows followed suit. Glade's assault rifle mowed down two Outcasts on the other end of the table. Gallows grabbed one Outcast as he rose from his seat by the leg, flipped him, and threw his combat blade into the man's throat. He ducked as another came to grab him and shot him in the side with his submachine gun. The last Outcast caught the glimmering of refracted artificial light on Gallows and pulled out his laser pistol, aimed straight at him.

Leah shot him down from across the room. Gallows lifted back to his feet, glancing over his shoulder at his would-be attacker. "Thanks," he rumbled quietly.

"Anytime. Let's go."

* * *

Gob regained consciousness to the shrieks of dying men and the crackling sound of fire, booms of explosions and bullets. He frantically sat up and looked around, flailing out for his gun. "Fuck! What the fuck was that?"

"Here!" An assault rifle was pushed once again into his hands and he greedily took hold of it, like a life-preserver, like an elixir. He looked up to see who had given it to him, to see what was going on around him.

Charon was kneeling at his side, covered as they both were by the upended truck. Blood was running down the side of his face and he was favoring his left leg, but he was up and shooting at least. Vargas was unconscious next to them.

"Where's Fawkes?" Gob yelled, leaning around the other side of the truck to see how many Outcasts were on the other side. There were at least ten left, circling in on them. He swallowed back the thick lump of fear in his throat, combined as it was with saliva and blood.

"He ran back toward the main base to get us help," Charon growled, his voice slightly slurred. "I told him not to, but I could do nothing to stop him."

"Fuck," Gob said again, pulling the trigger and shooting down two more Outcasts. "And Vargas? Is he still alive?"

"I don't _fucking_ know, Gob, I haven't had a chance to check!" he replied, releasing another blast of energy from the Tesla Cannon that killed off three of the approaching Outcasts. "_We'll_ be lucky to still be alive after all this."

* * *

"Come on, come _on_," Leah whispered, picking up the pace down a longer hallway. They were getting close to the center room, where the Reaper terminal would remain. The sound of approaching footsteps echoed around them and they stole close to the nearest wall to let them pass. Four Outcasts ran down the middle of the hallway. They'd gotten about halfway when Glade suddenly became visible again.

"Shit," he gasped, tapping the malfunctioning stealth boy on his wrist.

One of the Outcasts turned back and spotted him. "There!" he shouted. "A Brotherhood soldier!"

"Oh, fuck this," Leah roared, pulling out her Gauss rifle. She shot down the first Outcast to turn back and managed to nail a second in the leg, downing him immediately. Glade fumbled with his assault rifle, but Gallows picked up his slack and killed the last two with his SMG. Leah killed the second with her Blackhawk and then they both turned to Glade. "I've never had one malfunction before," she panted, pulling Glade's wrist to her. "Just take it off, the third one will work, but we'll only have an hour. We need to move faster."

"How long will it take you to disable the Reaper?" Glade grunted as he tugged the stealth boy off his arm, and sighed in relief once the modulating field took effect once more.

Leah looked up at him, glad that he couldn't see the panic in her expression. "I don't know."

"Fuck."

"So let's hurry." They sprinted down the rest of the hallway and Leah led them down the last door on the right. It opened into a kitchen, and two Outcast specialists were sitting at the dining table, clutching weapons with shaking hands. They both flinched and made to hide as the door opened.

"Don't," Leah murmured, catching the glint of light as Glade lifted his weapon. "Leave them. Come on."

They continued on through the rest of the kitchen and made a sharp left down the next hallway. "It should be at the end here, that last –,"

A bloodcurdling scream interrupted her sentence, a sound so agonizing that it sent chills down their backs.

For a moment, Leah couldn't move. It felt as if a blade had sliced through her heart, torn it right into two, because that voice was so familiar, so _fucking_ familiar, screaming in fear and pain as she'd heard it so many years ago as she found its owner being tortured by her own father.

She broke out into a run, uncaring that her footsteps were echoing loudly on the tile, not feeling the bruises and cuts on her body or the sweat and blood matting in her hair, dripping down her face, not hearing the two matching footsteps running behind her.

"Leah!"

"They found another Vault-dweller," she panted, her voice strangled in her throat. She reached the door gasping for breath, and slapped the electric button to open it – locked. Of fucking course. Instead of taking the time to unlock it, she took out her Gauss rifle and shot the electric button. It exploded and the door slid straight open.

* * *

**Thanks all for reading.**

**P.S. DaLover, thank you as always for your reviews - as for the Charon's journal question... good things come to those who wait ;)**


	23. The Explosion

Amata sobbed and shrieked, unable to see past the pain. She felt the blood running warm down her hand and arm.

"I need you alive," the cold voice informed her, "but you only need one finger to operate this machine. For every time you tell me no, I will take another. Now _open your fucking eyes and work this machine!_"

Amata sat up as best she could, her head swimming with agony and blood loss. She blinked past the pain and lifted her right arm, biting her lip from the torture of moving it after what they had done. Her remaining fingers were quivering so hard she could barely use them, but she tapped her index fingers to the screen of her Pip-Boy, navigating into the new menu that had popped up once it had been connected to the terminal. She did as Casdin told her to, tapped where he commanded, silently praying for forgiveness from God, from her father . . . from Leah.

There was an explosion behind her, and then the door slid open.

* * *

Leah inhaled a choked breath, her heart clenching in her chest.

There it was, the Reaper itself, the long rocket that had been described in the manual. Casdin, a second Outcast, and Amata Almodovar were situated on a platform in the middle of the room. Amata was spread limply out in a chair, her left arm suspended by a cord connected to the Reaper terminal, her right hanging by her side, covered in blood. The Outcast stood above her with a combat blade in hand, and at his feet . . . fingers. Leah couldn't fucking believe it.

The Outcast looked up at the empty doorway, searching for whoever had opened it, but Casdin didn't seem to notice. He was staring at the screen of Amata's Pip-Boy, a smile stretching across his face.

Everything went silent for Leah, even her heartbeat. All she could feel was the red hot rage boiling in her veins as she felt the injustice of watching an innocent die once more, just like she'd watched the life slowly leave her father. She could almost see the flickers of life dying in Amata's eyes. Not again. It would _not_ fucking happen _again_. With a feral scream, she shot the Outcast with her Gauss rifle and he dropped to the floor. Casdin turned, his smile frozen on his face, and she blasted him straight in the chest, sending him flying back against the wall of the platform. The metal surface started to rise, Amata, Casdin, Reaper and all. Leah sprinted and launched herself onto its edge just in time, her hands catching the ledge of metal. The Outcast slid onto the floor beside her as she hauled herself up onto the platform. As she rose to her feet, Casdin was struggling to reach the button resting on the middle of the Reaper. Leah shot his arm and he roared in pain, rolling away from it toward the edge of the platform. Leah rushed to Amata's side, gently lifting her head and brushing the bloody hair from her eyes. "Amata, God, please, Amata."

"Leah?" she croaked, her voice heartbreakingly frail.

"I need you to stay alive for me, okay? I need to stop this insane rocket from killing hundreds of innocent people."

"Mmm. . . . 'kay."

Leah turned to the terminal and fiercely started tapping at the screen. It was blinking 'READY TO LAUNCH' in bright, flashing letters. Beneath that, it read 'Automatic Launch in 59 . . . 58 . . . 57 . . .'

"FUCK!" She tapped the 'Emergency Shutdown' tab, but it required a password that Casdin must have set. Leah was used to decrypting passwords, but this was easily the hardest she'd ever seen. The code was fifteen letters long, and the words were dissimilar enough to throw her off. She tapped three to no avail, and frantically searched the non-letter figures for any kind of help.

* * *

"Frag grenade, get down, get down!" Star Paladin Cross screamed.

Sarah Lyons shook her head, refusing to move until the knight captain she was helping made it as well. He struggled to get to his feet, and with her pulling managed to make it up. They bolted for cover . . . but it was too late.

The blast hit them both straight in the back.

* * *

Gob watched Charon drag himself up onto his feet, and rushed over when he nearly collapsed. "Are you all right?"

"No, but I'll make it. The way is clear for now. Cover me just in case while we get Vargas back." The taller ghoul hitched Vargas up by his arms and hauled him over his shoulder. Gob led the way, fear sour like bile in his throat. He'd never seen his friend so injured before, never seen even the smallest waver in his strong composure.

It was up to him now. He clutched the assault rifle even harder and almost felt a thrill as two more Outcasts moved out from behind the nearest wall.

He wouldn't let his friends down.

* * *

Charon pushed on with the lingering remainders of strength left in his body. Vargas' body was weighing him down and left him completely vulnerable to attacks. He knew Gob was injured, too, and there was the very real chance that they wouldn't make it back.

He'd gone into this battle knowing it was possible, but he'd never really accepted that it could happen. Now, with blood running down his face and pain firing off in all parts of his body, all he could think of was Leah's smiling face, and a promise he'd made to the love of his life.

What if this storm ended and he didn't see her? If one of them didn't make it out of this, he wanted it to be him. He'd die without a second's hesitation if it meant that she would make it. He felt selfish for wanting that. Not because he wished for her to live on, healthy and happy. . . .

But because he couldn't bear to be the one to live without the other.

* * *

Leah's hands were trembling so badly she almost couldn't tap the enter key. She was down to twenty seconds and had just found a cluster of figures to get rid of another dud. That left her with two more possibilities, and only one chance left.

There was a fifty-fifty chance that the answer she chose would destroy the entire Citadel and break apart the Brotherhood of Steel. There was a chance that most of them were already dead, fighting for their lives outside. There was a chance that she'd never see Gob again, or Sarah Lyons, that Amata's life was ending behind her, that Fawkes' was, that _Charon's_ . . .

Her eyes flickered back and forth between the last word she'd chosen and the last two choices.

_Biotechnologist – 3/15_

She was left with _chancellorships _and _biomathematical_. The latter made the obvious choice, but there would have been more letters in common if that were the case . . . right? Or was she just too exhausted and nervous to think straight? Her choice would determine the fate of everyone in the Capital Wasteland.

8 . . . 7 . . . 6 . . .

She inhaled deeply, held it, and tapped the first choice just as her time was running out.

_Exact match! Please wait while system is accessed. . . . _

"Oh, my God. I . . . I did it," she whispered hoarsely. To her shock, a sob caught in her throat, "holy shit, I did it." The menu popped back up and she was then given two more options.

_Disable_ and _Disable Permanently._

She closed her eyes. This was the real choice. She'd thought about it every night since the thought had occurred to her. She had made her decision.

She tapped the screen for one last time and then turned to Amata as the platform jerked to life and began to lower to the ground level. Her old friend was unconscious now, but her chest was still moving with shallow breaths. Leah disconnected her Pip-Boy and lifted her carefully into her arms. They reached ground level and she stepped off of the platform. Glade and Gallows were waiting for her, their stealth boys removed from their wrists.

"Casdin is still alive," Gallows informed her solemnly. "What do you want to do with him?"

"He deserves a slow, painful death for what he did, the atrocious things he committed to all of us. This whole thing is because of him." She shook her head. "I have no right to make the decision on my own, though. Take him with us."

"Yes, ma'am." He lifted the protector into his arms and they began the long march back to base.

* * *

Charon limped past the ramp back toward the ruined building where the rest of them awaited. He passed Outcast and Brotherhood corpses alike, unseeing. He knew that it was significant, how many they'd lost, but his fate rested within the Outcast base, wherever Leah was. If she made it out alive, he would feel no grief. If she didn't . . . he would never feel anything again.

Brotherhood soldiers cried out in the windows above him. Gunny came running down and helped him carry Vargas up the stairs. They laid his body out on the stone, where Durga and Star Paladin Cross could examine him. Gob led Charon over to a crate so he could sit, asking him questions he couldn't understand. He nodded and waved him away. Nothing mattered until she made it out. There were frantic voices and cries of grief around him as soldiers realized who they'd lost.

Nothing mattered at all.

* * *

Gob left him and moved back over to the group that was left to see if he could help. Many bodies were laid out beside Vargas', people he recognized and others he didn't. Many initiates, a few knight captains, two paladins . . . Fawkes . . . Sarah Lyons . . . Gob was numb as he took in their faces. Medics were rushing over each and every one of them, removing armor, applying stimpaks, putting pressure on bullet hole wounds that just wouldn't stop bleeding. Gob took it all in with tired eyes.

In seemed, in the wake of all the pain and sensation and overwhelming noise, adrenaline, fear, there was nothing left to feel, for any of them.

* * *

Footsteps echoed up the stone steps and a few Brotherhood initiates ran over to assist whoever was coming up. Gob watched in disinterest as they disappeared behind the wall and returned seconds later with bodies in their arms. The apathy faded as he did not recognize the first one, a young woman in her underwear – and identified the second with absolute malice. He was just about to ask what was going on when Charon literally pushed past him. If Casdin was here, it meant that Leah had done her job.

The Lone Wanderer herself turned the corner, her armor ripped and torn, a bullet graze on her side, and soaked in blood. Her eyes were unfocused, but the distant look faded as soon as she saw him.

"Charon," she whispered. He ran forward, ignoring his own pain or hers, and yanked her up into his arms, crushing her to his chest. "Oh, God, Charon," she whimpered.

He murmured her name, over and over again, running his hands through her hair. He inhaled the scent of her, hidden under the smell of sweat and blood and gunpowder, and savored the feeling of her breathing and whole in his arms. She was here and everything was all right in the world, no matter who had died during battle or who would die from their injuries in the future, Leah was here and he loved her and that was _all_. God, she was so beautiful. He pushed her hair out of her face and brushed his fingertips over her cheekbones, traced her lips, tilted her chin upward so that he could kiss her.

"They had Amata," she croaked against his lips, a sob strangled in her throat, "they had Amata and they were cutting her _fingers_ off, and I had to disable that fucking weapon and I can't believe any of this is even _real_ and –,"

Her words weren't even registering in his mind as he stared at her, a small smile curving up his lips. "Marry me."

Leah blinked, her hands frozen against his face. Her eyes searched his, and he was covered in blood and bruises and injuries and she probably was, too, and she didn't know who was dead or who was alive, and here Charon was _asking her to marry him_? Her fingers probed along the sides of his head, clinical and unforgiving.

"Ouch," he complained as she hit a tender spot just above the remains of an ear. He jerked his head away, out of her touch.

"You have a concussion, Charon, and you need to see a doctor."

"You are a doctor, and concussion or not, I know what I am saying."

Her expression softened and she wiped a tear as it brimmed over and began to run down her cheek. "We're both fucking crazy," she laughed shakily.

"So marry me," he repeated, cupping her face with his hands.

"Your timing is horrible, you know that?"

"And the more you argue with me, the more I am beginning to worry."

"You and I _both_ know you're the most arrogant bastard in the entire Wasteland, east coast to west," she snorted, shaking her head. "There was never any chance I would say no."

He kissed her hard enough to hurt and she laughed under his lips. "Shut up," he grumbled, but his tone was loving. "Now come on. We need to go check in with the others."

"I was planning on that before you attacked me and proposed."

He rolled his eyes and took her hand as they turned back to the group at large. Gob was standing awkwardly against the nearest wall and Leah sprinted to give him a hug. "So glad you're okay," she sighed through more tears.

"You, too, smoothskin," he agreed dryly, releasing her. She touched his shoulder and walked into the other room, where all the injured were gathered on the floor to be treated.

"Oh, God," she whispered in a trembling voice. She felt as if she'd had the wind knocked out of her as she took in the faces of the injured. Her knees started shaking and Charon squeezed her hand supportively. "Fawkes. And Sarah, too . . . Rockfowl . . . Vargas . . . will they be okay?"

Star Paladin Cross looked up from where she knelt over Elder Lyons, her face pale with concern and littered with cuts and bruises. "She's critical, but alive. We have enough medical supplies to get her back to the Citadel, where she will need better treatment . . . assuming the Citadel is still standing."

Leah understood her angle and nodded solemnly. "Yes, I got there in time."

"Oh, thank God," Colvin sighed as there was a collective breath of relief.

"And Fawkes?" Leah asked, drifting over toward her friend.

The mutant peeked open one eye, startling her. "I am still alive, my friend, just injured. I, too, will survive the trip back to the Citadel."

"He'll need radiation treatments," Leah said, looking up at Charon and Gob. "You guys, too."

"Yeah, yeah," Charon grunted, rolling his eyes.

"We have radiation chambers," Cross replied quickly. "We used them to test radiation suits. It should work perfectly to heal them." She pointed at Amata's unconscious body. "Whoever this is, she is also critical, and severely addicted to Med-X. I've stopped the bleeding on her hand and I was able to sustain her with enough Med-X to stop the immediate pain until we can get her back and treat her fully."

Durga was kneeling above Rockfowl's body, applying gauze to a severe burn on his back. "The Outcast, too, will survive," she informed Leah in a quiet voice. She glanced up at McGraw, blanched, turned back down to Rockfowl's injuries. "He was caught in a pretty bad blast from the mini-nuke. The initiate he attempted to save made it out with mild injuries, thankfully. The Outcast will survive the trip back."

Leah closed her eyes and thanked every deity she knew of. "And Casdin?" she asked, standing above the Outcast protector who had caused it all. "Is he still alive?"

"Barely," Cross answered in a clipped voice.

"And we will waste no supplies to keep him alive," Leah replied in much the same tone. "We'll take him with us. If he makes it to the Citadel alive, we'll figured out what to do with him there. If not, it's no real loss to anyone."

"Agreed." Cross paused, glancing over to the last body. "Paladin Vargas did not make it."

There was complete silence as everyone took that in. Charon got to his feet and left the room. Leah closed her eyes as she heard his footsteps going down the stairs. Cross was listing more names of the fallen, one after the other. It was unbearable to listen to, but Leah stayed. They deserved to be acknowledged for their effort . . . for their lives. After what felt like forever, Cross was finished with the list and turned to Leah. "So what do we do now?"

Leah looked around, shocked to find that everyone was staring at her for direction. "Uh . . . what do you mean?"

"With Elder Lyons out of commission and Paladin Vargas . . . dead," Gallows muttered, tripping over the word, "you're in charge."

She swallowed hard. "Are you sure?"

"Elder Lyons told me herself," Star Paladin Cross confirmed. "If she were to be injured . . . it is you."

Leah sighed, running a hand through her hair. She grimaced as she felt the blood hardened there. "All right. The Outcasts still have a few trucks left over here. Let's heal all of the injuries we can while we're here. We'll load the critically injured up into the trucks and take off as soon as possible. We'll drive through the night if we have to, whatever we need to do to get them home and healthy again. I'm not losing anymore men." Leah paused, glancing around at all of the faces around her. "You all did well. We've saved the Brotherhood of Steel name, and no matter who we've lost in the process, we did what we came here to do. We will remember those who gave their lives. Though it may not feel like it . . . today was a victory. Remember that as we make our way home."

Amid the chorus of "yes, ma'am," Leah turned and walked out of the room. She found her bag where she'd left it stuffed beneath an old desk and pulled it out. She grabbed a few bottles of radiated water and handed them to Gob. "Here. Pour them wherever you're injured. It will at least help enough to make it back."

"Thank you." He nodded toward the stairs. "You do what you have to."

Leah nodded, picking up a few more bottles, stimpaks, and Med-X syringes, and headed for the stairs.

She found Charon sitting alone in one of the windows downstairs, staring out over the blood-soaked earth of their battlefield. He didn't look up as Leah set down the medical supplies and slid her arms over his shoulders, ducking her face against his neck. She didn't say anything. She knew even if there was something she _could_ say, he wouldn't want to hear it. Instead, she just held him and listened to his pulse pumping proudly away beneath her ear. He lifted a hand to lay on hers where they rested over his heart and pressed his lips to her temple.

Eventually she released him and got the supplies she'd brought down. "Come on, lover mine. You have injuries to be healed."

Charon climbed slowly to his feet and walked over to where she stood. He watched the love of his life unbuckle his armor with clinical precision and drop the heavy plates to the floor. She poured the irradiated water over his most severe injuries and applied pressure with a rag.

"I know it wasn't my fault," he croaked. "But it sure as hell feels like it."

"You had the most dangerous job," she answered simply, applying a stimpak to his shoulder. Those blue eyes, deep as the sea, laced with black fringe, flickered upward to meet his. "I feel the loss, too."

"But it was _my_ team," he insisted fiercely. "I was in charge and I let two people down. I lost one of them."

"And I will grieve with you, as will everyone else," Leah whispered, sticking the used stimpak in his mouth to keep him from talking anymore. "Say one more word on the matter and I will punch you in this huge bruise you have." To prove her point, she poked the tip of a finger into the tender area on his abdomen.

Charon grunted and jerked away, glaring down at her. He spat out the stimpak. "Fine. What would you like to discuss, then?"

Her lips quirked up at one end and she shrugged nonchalantly. "Last I heard, we have a wedding to plan."

He groaned and rested his forehead tenderly against hers. "I'm going to regret that for the rest of my life, aren't I?"

"'Til death do us part," she agreed with a wink.


	24. The Settling Dust

From the time Leah rolled her truck to a stop to the moment where she was helping Glade lower Amata's body onto a cot in the med bay, she hadn't spoken a word. There were no words to say. She paused over her friend, brushed her bangs out of her face with shaking fingers.

"Scoot, get out, _out_!" Cross barked at her as Gallows and Glade came in with Casdin slumped between them. They dropped him rather ceremoniously onto a cot in the corner and left without glancing back. "How do we detain him?"

"He's not going anywhere," Leah reassured her, wiping the blood from her hands off onto her armor. "I shot him twice. He'll be lucky to even wake up again before he dies. Is there any way to make sure he doesn't wake up until we want him to?"

Cross looked very upset with the idea, but replied dutifully, "Yes, I have drugs that I can administer to him."

"I'd like that, then." Leah did her best to sound decisive, in charge. She tucked a loose strand of black, blood-thickened hair behind an ear. "Thank you, Star Paladin Cross. Your help has been invaluable."

"Without you, we would not have made it – any one of us," Cross responded simply before turning on her heel to where Sarah Lyons was unconscious. Leah watched her for a moment as she lovingly applied Med-X and set up blood packs. She really cared about the younger woman. It made sense. She'd spent her entire life protecting the Lyons family, it was only natural for her to grow to care for them.

Leah turned to leave the star paladin alone.

"Paladin Montgomery – wait."

Leah grimaced. She'd tried – unsuccessfully – to get Cross to start calling her just _Leah_, but once she'd earned the paladin name, protocol or not, it had been set in stone. She glanced over her shoulder as the star paladin came up to her. "Yes, Cross?"

Cross reached for her bag, set down onto a table in the corner, and pulled out a set of keys. "Follow me. I have a couple of things for you."

"Sure thing." Leah felt like at any second she was going to pass out on her feet, but she had a responsibility now – for all of these people – and she would commit to that until it killed her. "Show me the way." She followed Cross's brisk pace through corridor after corridor to a door just beside the solar, where Cross stopped so abruptly she almost ran into her. Her broad, coarse hands slid the key into the knob and pushed the old door open.

"This is yours now."

"M-mine?"

"Elder Lyons' wishes. She told me personally that this suite was to be yours. Since you're honorary elder until she returns to good health –,"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Leah interjected, flailing her hands around to stop her speaking. Blue eyes met dark brown, horrified. "Elder?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, God. I . . . need to sit down." The first room behind the door was a wide office, with a desk and office chair situated by the back wall.

"It is your office," Cross said with a shrug.

Leah collapsed into one of the waiting chairs near the door and shook her head. "I can't handle elder. I can hardly handle paladin."

"You have no choice in the matter. Now, if I may continue. . . ." Cross looked at her questioningly.

Leah waved a hand, exhausted beyond all description. "Please. While you've got me here."

Cross almost smiled. "Elder Lyons also wanted me to give you something, should she herself be unable to after the battle. She regretted not being able to give it to you sooner, but she did not want your emotional state compromised further before the fight."

"Yikes. This sounds bad. Go on, then." Leah sat up straighter in her chair. She watched Cross stride to a cabinet in the corner and reach to open it. "Wait!"

Cross paused, her hand on the cabinet door. "Yes?"

"Just . . . leave it. Please. I'll look at it once Charon's back. I can't handle stuff like this right now on my own."

"As you wish."

"Is that . . . all?"

"Yes, Elder Montgomery."

"Oh, sheesh," Leah sighed. "That doesn't taste bad to you at all when you say it?"

"I taste nothing," Cross admitted with another shrug.

"Oh, yeah. Android. Stupid question," Leah muttered, shaking her head. She got unsteadily to her feet and grabbed the shocked star paladin into a hug. "Thank you, Star Paladin Cross. For everything you've done."

Cross shakily returned the embrace before carefully extracting herself from Leah's gratitude. "It is what I do, Elder Montgomery. If you'll excuse me, I have injured to tend to."

"By all means." Leah grimaced when Cross bowed before leaving the room, but didn't remark on it any further. The star paladin closed the door behind her as she left and Leah was grateful. She curled up into a tight little ball and hid her face in the crook of her elbow. So much had happened. They'd lost Vargas. They could still lose Sarah Lyons, Amata, Rockfowl. . . . Moisture hit her skin and it shamed her even more to realize she was crying.

* * *

Charon hastily finished the sanitizing shower, grateful that _that_ experience was finally over. Sharing a radiation chamber naked with another naked ghoul and a large, equally naked super mutant was not his idea of a fun time. Why he couldn't just keep his clothes on and toss them out later, he had no idea. All he knew was that he wanted to find his smoothskin and hold her until his arms went numb. Though, he supposed wearily, the healing process in the radiation chamber was the only time he'd ever been happy that Leah _wasn't_ there. He wouldn't have been able to take her giggles if she'd caught sight of the three of them stuffed together.

He stepped out of the cold shower and toweled off, finding gratefully that an initiate had left him a set of his clothes. He pulled the tattered T-shirt and armored pants on, savoring their dryness and distinct lack of blood. He left the showers and peeked his head out into the hallway, wondering where the hell Leah was.

"Are you looking for Paladin Montgomery, sir?" an initiate just outside the door asked, startling him.

"Jesus, kid, don't scare me like that," Charon growled. "I could've killed you."

"Sorry!" the boy replied quickly. "I didn't mean to, Paladin Charon!"

Charon visibly shuddered. "Please. Just Charon."

"Paladin Montgomery doesn't like it either," the initiate said with a smile. "I will take you to her new rooms. Well, _your_ new rooms, too."

Charon nodded for him to lead the way and fell into step beside him. "She asked you not to call her that, huh?"

"She asked me my name, and then said, 'How about I call you Thomas and you call me Leah?' and then added that it wasn't actually a question and she would beat me senseless if I didn't agree. But when I'm not around her, I can still call her Paladin Montgomery. Paladin Gunny would have my head if he heard me call her Leah."

"That certainly sounds like her," Charon agreed with a smile of his own.

"She was upset that I referred to you as Paladin Charon as well and demanded to know why I automatically called you by your first name."

Charon sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Because I don't have a last name," he chuckled.

"Well, yes, that's what I told her. She seemed to think that you deserved . . . a different name." Thomas glanced up at him, instantly cautious.

"Oh? And what name was that?" Charon asked with a smirk.

"Erm . . . I'd rather not say."

"_Thomas_," he snarled threateningly.

"Ah . . . This is just a quote, sir, but she referred to you as 'Paladin Pain-in-my-Ass . . . sir."

Charon laughed. "She thinks she's so goddamn clever."

Thomas smiled, grateful that Charon wasn't mad. "Paladin Montgomery's rooms are just through here, sir."

"Rooms?"

"Yes, when she stepped into honorary elder position, she received the suite beside the solar."

"Wait." Charon stopped the kid with a hand on his shoulder. "She's _elder_ now? Shit. You'd better hurry, kid."

"Yes, sir!" Thomas picked up the pace through the winding hallways of the A Ring. "Excuse me, sir, but why would she be upset about that?"

"She hates titles, good or bad," Charon explained hastily. "She won't like taking on the elder title without having earned it like the rest of them."

"But she did," Thomas protested vehemently. "She fought like the rest of us! She saved the Citadel."

"She won't see it that way. I never said it made sense," Charon added as Thomas made to complain again.

The initiate seemed to have a hard time getting over that concept, but conceded to silence for the rest of the trip. He came to a stop outside a door next to the solar and gestured toward it. "This is it . . . Charon."

"Thank you, Thomas, very much. Go get some sleep."

Thomas nodded gratefully and took off toward the B ring. Charon took a deep breath and slowly pushed the door open. He took in the room as it was exposed to him behind the old wood, pristine, wide desk, comfortable chair, a long rug and a tall cabinet in the corner. He scanned the room for Leah and didn't find her until he looked down to his immediate right.

"Oh, smoothskin," he sighed, finding her curled up in one of the chairs. He closed the door behind him and knelt down beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and, after a moment, she stirred just enough to allow him to hold her. Her face pressed against his shoulder, pale and tear-streaked.

"You smell clean," she whispered, her voice quiet to hide its shakiness.

"And you do not," he rasped, equally as quiet.

"I know."

"Come." He slipped one of his arms under her knees and lifted her easily into his arms. "Does this suite include a bathroom?"

"Yes, the stupid suite does."

Charon elected not to answer that and carried her into the bedroom, glancing around to take in the big bed and wardrobe beside it, before passing that into the bathroom on the left. He pressed the light button with his elbow and found to his pleasant surprise that the there was both a shower and a bathtub.

"Shower or tub, smoothskin?"

"I have a choice?" she whispered, finally lifting her face from his neck. "I haven't had a bath since Megaton."

"Tub it is." He paused, realizing his predicament. "Can you stand to be on your feet while I draw you a bath, smoothskin?" His tone was teasing.

"Oh, put me down. I can draw my own bath." She wriggled in his arms until he set her gently down onto her feet. Instead of turning to the bath, she threw her arms around his chest. "I love you so much," she moaned.

"I love you, too," he sighed, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "I was so worried. I could barely function."

"Me, too." She sniffed and pulled away, smiling despite her tear-stained cheeks. "I should really bathe now. Can you bathe with me?"

"I intended to," he admitted, already undoing the latches of her torn armor. "Sex or no sex?"

"God, no sex," she said quickly, shaking her head as she pulled his shirt up over his head, grunting with frustration when she couldn't reach high enough. He lifted it easily over his head and tossed it aside for her. "I'm so sore I think it would kill me."

"Figured I'd just give you the option," he said innocently.

"Liar." She stepped out of her armor, lifting each leg at a time so he could roll it tenderly over her ankles and feet. She bent over and turned one faucet, then the other, finding the perfect water temperature. Charon examined her body, gritting his teeth as he took in all of her injuries. She was covered in bruises and the bullet graze on her side looked bad.

When Leah glanced back to smile at him, she frowned to find he was gone. "Charon?"

"Here," he answered, reappearing in the doorway with a handful of medical supplies.

"Oh, don't baby me," she spat stubbornly.

"That wound is going to sting when it hits the water. I will baby you all I wish to." He waved her protests away and applied a stimpak to the wound. Despite her protests, she sighed in relief. A few stimpaks later, the skin was already beginning to knit back together. He ran his fingers light as a feather over it and she moved her torso this way and that, watching the wound patch over and begin to recede.

"Thank you," she murmured, turning the faucets to stop the water. "You first, big guy."

Charon slid gratefully into the warm water, finding comfort in the temperature after the ice cold shower downstairs in the labs. Once he was situated, he patted the water near his lap. Leah dipped the tip of her toes, testing it out, and then stepped into the bath and settled between his legs with a sigh of gratitude. She leaned her head back against his shoulder. "God, this is what I needed."

"Me, too. Thank you . . . Elder Montgomery."

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "God damn it. That is just ridiculous."

"Ridiculous or not, they need someone to follow until Sarah wakes again. You are the obvious choice."

"What about Cross?" she demanded, already knowing his answer.

"An android, Leah? Just bite the bullet and accept that you are a great leader and beloved to the Brotherhood. You deserve it."

"But –,"

"Shut up."

"Not everyone loves me."

"Who doesn't? Knight Captain Dusk? Nobody likes her anyways."

"True enough." Leah sighed, twining her fingers through his beneath the water. "All right. I'll step into the elder shoes, but only until Sarah Lyons is back. I'm not fit to be a leader." She kissed the under side of his chin. "Oh, by the way, Sarah Lyons apparently left me something in the cupboard outside. She said she wanted to give it to me before the battle, but didn't want to compromise me emotionally or something."

Charon paused, thinking hard. "Fair enough."

"Yeah, basically how I felt, too." She hummed pleasantly as he began running his fingers through her wet hair. He released her hand from his and reached for a bottle of shampoo on the shelf above the tub.

"Your hair smells like blood."

"_I_ smell like blood."

"Soon enough, you will smell like. . . ." He read the deteriorated label on the bottle, ". . . _Lilac sunshine_."

Leah snorted and turned around in the tub so she was straddling him. She grabbed the bottle from his hands and set it aside. Her lips met his, hungry and loving. "I want to smell like you," she breathed against his lips.

"I thought you were too sore," he teased, his hands squeezing her hips.

"Changed my mind."

"But –,"

"I am Brotherhood Elder Leah Rose Montgomery, I am in charge, and I am going to have sex with you, Charon, so just _bite the bullet and accept it_," she growled, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

He chuckled, thoroughly aroused by the take-charge attitude. He sighed when she sank down onto him, her breath hitching against his cheek. "Fair enough."

* * *

"Okay . . . kind of sore," Leah confessed as she gingerly pulled on Charon's T-shirt to sleep in.

He glanced at her with that sated, alpha-male look that never failed to make her heart skip. "Was it worth it?" he asked, shoving one leg and then the other into his pants.

"Mmn, it will _always_ be worth it." She yawned, doing her best to cover it up with her hand as she settled back onto their new bed.

"Do you still want to see what Sarah left you, or would you rather do it in the morning?"

"No, tonight," she insisted. "Besides, it's already pretty much morning anyways. In the afternoon I have a Lyons' Pride meeting and I was hoping the next day, we could rush back to Tenpenny to check in with the children."

"I miss them," he admitted.

"Me, too."

He rubbed the back of his neck and gestured toward the door. "Shall I get us coffee, then?"

"Best damn idea I've ever heard," she agreed.

"I will be back then."

Leah followed him to the door, kissed him, and watched him stroll down the hall. She closed the door behind him and headed for the cabinet, humming tunelessly to herself as she pulled open the door. Her smile froze on her face and everything seemed to stop, her humming, her heartbeat, time itself. Her hands were shaking violently as she reached forward to pick up the Pip-Boy sitting on the top shelf. She held it in her hands, feeling it cold and heavy in her palms. The screen turned gray and then buzzed to life when it touched her skin. "Oh, God," she whispered, feeling light-headed. "Dad." Her fingers caressed the image of the Vault Boy on the front. His eyes were closed, arms by his sides.

_Deceased_, it read.

She clutched the Pip-Boy to her chest like a talisman, swiped up the note that it had been sitting on, and rushed back into the other room.

* * *

Charon carried the two mugs back toward the room, carefully transferring them to one hand so he could open the door. "Smoothskin?" he called, kicking the door closed behind him. "You there?"

"Charon." Her voice was hoarse. She was crying again.

"Shit," he muttered, quickly putting the mugs down onto the desk and hurrying into the other room. He found her sitting in the middle of their large bed, a Pip-Boy clutched in her hands. Her expression was twisted, agonized. He didn't understand. "Your Pip-Boy? What is it? Smoothskin?" He glanced over to her bag in the corner and found another Pip-Boy. _That_ one was hers. So whose was she holding . . . ?

"Oh," he exhaled, settling down onto the bed beside her. He pulled her into his arms and she set the Pip-Boy down in front of them, her wet hair cold against his neck.

"My dad's," she whispered, brushing her fingers over the screen. "The Brotherhood must have picked it up when he died. I'd forgotten all about it."

"And it still works?"

"He must have left something on it for me. It recognized my touch." She looked up at him, her eyes lost, distant, glossy with tears. "What do I do?"

Charon cupped her face and tenderly pressed his lips to her forehead. "Find out what he left you. I am here for you."

"Good," she laughed shakily, squeezing his hand once before picking up the Pip-Boy once more. Charon rested his back against the headboard and pulled her against his side, his arm behind her shoulders. She held out the note she'd found beside it and began to read.

_Leah_, it began in Sarah's busy script,

_I'm sorry that I had to keep this from you. Hope you'll forgive me, but pre-battle isn't the time for stuff like this. Scribe Rothchild must have confiscated this for examination – don't kill him, please, it's standard procedure for events like that. It was nothing personal. I would have done the same. _

_But I found it recently in storage and knew I had to give it back. I'm sorry for your father's death. He was a great man. He'll never be forgotten. I hope this can give you some closure._

_Much love,_

_Your friend Sarah_

Leah put the paper down and pressed the button for the data tab on the Pip-Boy. It scrolled over to reveal a series of holotapes, labeled one through ten. The first one was titled _My Daughter. My Leah._

"Oh, God," she whispered again.

"Are you sure you want me to be here?" Charon asked uncertainly.

"Jesus, yes," she insisted quickly. "I can't do this without you." She took a deep breath and tapped it with her finger, closing her eyes.

"Leah," her father's voice belted out strong and alive, and she could see him behind her eyelids, the soft face, lined with age, the knowing smile, the wisdom in his eyes. "If you're hearing this, then I am dead. I'm sorry, my darling. Know that everything I did, I did for you, my dearest daughter, my deepest love. You are so strong, so smart, everything your mother dreamed you would be. Everything I _knew_ you would be. I imagine you have some questions and I knew I would never have the time or strength to answer them, so I left you these holotapes. Cowardly, I know, but you deserve to hear the truth, every bit of it. I hope Charon is there with you, too. I could tell the moment I met you two that there was something deeper there than either of you realized. I'm happy for you, so happy. You deserve someone with your strength, your courage. I'd like for him to hear all of this as well.

I never told you much about my life before the Vault, only yours. I realize that. I'd like for you to know everything now, while I still have the chance to record it. But for me to explain it all, I will have to start at the very beginning, where I was born . . . in Nevada."

* * *

**Whoa! I know! We still have a few chapters left in this sequel, friends, and I intend to make them count.**

**Thank you as always for reading. Big thank you's to Pattyn and DaLover for their lovely words. Thank you to everyone else as well for putting me on your favorite or alert lists, that means just as much! Hope you enjoyed!**


	25. Memories and Dreams

Leah and Charon hadn't slept a wink throughout the entire night. She was clutching her knees to her chest, staring down at the Pip-Boy between them on the bed and listening to her father's voice in rapt attention. Charon alternated between watching the tiny marker move across the track on the screen and glancing up to make sure that his smoothskin was still all right.

Neither were sure how long they'd been listening to the soft, accented voice of James Norman Montgomery, but they'd both fallen into a sort of trance. His story was long, complicated, and full of history that neither of them could even grasp at.

As her father's voice went on and on, Leah slowly reached over and pulled Charon's hand into her own. She didn't look up at him, but her fingers clung tightly to his. He squeezed back. He'd be whatever she needed.

He was exactly what she needed.

* * *

"Do you know how many Vaults there are, sweetheart? There were hundreds made. A lot have fallen off of the map, either from discontinuation or destruction, but a large number remain. It's the absolute truth that I snuck us into Vault 101 right after you were born, but that's not the first of them I was involved with. I was born in Vault 3, all the way on the west coast in Nevada. It was much like Vault 101, but better. Freer. We were happy there, not held under the tight first of a tyrannical overseer.

I don't know if you knew this, sweetie – you probably worked it out – but the Vaults were almost all meant to be social experiments. My original home, Vault 3, was a control vault. We got lucky. There was nothing different or special about us. Its purpose was exactly as was advertised – survival. But the same could not be said for other Vaults. Vault 19, for example, was broken up into two different teams that were brainwashed to discriminate against each other. Vault 27 was purposefully, and cruelly, overpopulated by about double the sustainable amount. Vault 101 was a different type, an experiment to see how people would function over the all-encompassing rule of an Overseer. Our government was not stable, but they could unify when they wanted to. They had scientists and social psychologists running the entire Vault show. It was sick, and it was cruel, but that is the truth of the world, isn't it, darling? Nobody looking out for you but yourself.

Anyways, Vault 3 was my home, and Catherine's home. She was a little older than me. We were friends since childhood. I admired her intelligence and her curiosity. She was a bit of a rebel, to be honest, and quite an awful influence on me. Your grandparents positively _loathed_ her." There was a low chuckle here, the dry sound like dust in the desert, the ghost of laughter shocking Leah's nerves so much she jumped a little on the bed and jerked further against Charon. "Things went very well. We fell in love in my late teens and her early twenties. Life was wonderful.

Quite abruptly, there was a water leak. It started flooding the lower levels and we were forced to open that Vault door to seek help. Most people were terrified, but your mother and I . . . we were invigorated. It was the most exciting time of our lives. We were young, strong, curious, and ready to see the outside world. Most of the other Vault-dwellers opted to stay behind and merely trade with outsiders, but Catherine and I weren't satisfied with that. Her parents had died years ago, your grandparents, darling. Her mother suffered from extreme claustrophobia and went so crazy living down there that she had to be constantly medicated, and in that condition, she wasn't functional. Your grandfather killed himself over the stress of it all and Catherine was left tending to her mother until she took too high of a dose of her medication and died, too. It left Catherine hardened, but stronger – and with nothing to leave behind. I bid goodbye to my parents, much to their hatred, and ran off with Catherine.

The Wasteland was like nothing I'd ever imagined. I know what it was like for you, darling, when you stepped outside of Vault 101 for the first time. I was your age and that first step . . . absolutely breathtaking. Catherine and I had nowhere to go, but we loved it – the freedom of it all. I proposed to her, that night, in the middle of the dessert in front of the red sunset."

Charon gave a low chuckle then, surprising Leah. She paused the recording and shot him a quizzical look; he smiled sheepishly. "I apologize that it wasn't quite as romantic for you, smoothskin."

Leah shook her head, understanding at once. She kissed him hard. "I'll always remember that, sunset or not."

"If you say so. Let's continue."

She nodded and pressed play.

"We wandered for days, our food and water dwindling. We only had a couple of measly pistols. We hadn't expected the people outside to be as dangerous or aggressive or violent. Understand, sweetheart, we were raised in a Vault that was completely safe. You trusted everyone there with your life, knowing you'd sacrifice the same. I'd been shot in the shoulder and it put a lot of extra pressure on Catherine. We wandered toward the city of New Vegas. We'd heard rumors about it, about its luxury and abundance.

It surpassed all of our wildest imaginations. We tried begging our way onto the Strip, to no avail. A man named Mitchell spotted us, poor and half starved, and got us into the Strip. He led us to his home, Vault 21. Catherine and I were sick of the metal walls and close quarters, but this one was different. Vault 21 was an experiment as well, honey. Quite fittingly, I supposed, its inhabitants were all gamblers. They gambled to make all big decisions, who would be overseer and so forth. Surprisingly, it was one of the most successful Vaults there was. I always wondered what that said about our society." Another tired laugh. "Anyways, Mitchell took us under his wing. Catherine enjoyed the people of Vault 21 much better than our original home. She learned to cook and clean and gamble. She fell in love with the children there. I think that's where she learned she wanted to be a mother, in that Vault.

I myself spent most of my time with Mitchell. He was the Vault doctor and he taught me everything he knew. I was his apprentice of sorts. I helped him with surgeries, delivering babies, treating common illness and injuries. I learned it all under him. After a few years, I'd mastered every medical book in his library and I started treating a lot of the Vault patients by myself. Mitchell was more a father figure to me than your grandfather was. Your mother and I were married, right there in the middle of the Strip, amid cheers from people we didn't even know. But, just as before, Catherine and I grew restless. The small quarters just weren't for us.

We went back out into the Wasteland once more, but better equipped. I'd earned us a lot of money in the Vault med bay, and Catherine had gambled us a small fortune. We bought good quality weapons on the Strip and took off into the Mojave Desert.

There's something you should know about the west coast, sweetheart. It's not the same as here. There isn't just _Outcasts_ and _Brotherhood_. There are more factions, and getting close to one could mean instantly being vilified with another. It's a tough balance to make and it took your mother and I years to master. We fell in with a group called the Followers of the Apocalypse. They were short-handed, but they seemed to want the best for the world around them. I became a doctor and Catherine took care of other jobs they needed around the camps. We traveled a lot for them, helping as many people as we could. On our travels, we came across the brilliant Lost Hills bunker of the Brotherhood of Steel. We'd never heard of them before, only rumors, old myths, and yet here they were in Power Armor and armed to the teeth with energy weapons. We abandoned the Followers and clung to their high aspirations, their big promises and dreams. They were impressed by my scientific and medical knowhow – and your mother's way around a gun. The Brotherhood had just decided to send a small group to the Capital Wasteland, to salvage any technology there and fend off the growing super mutant problem. We hitched a ride in that caravan with Owyn Lyons, Rothchild, and an infant Sarah Lyons.

We arrived in the Capital Wasteland who knew how long later. Years, maybe. It was a long trip. Your mother and I built up a team of scientists and immediately began work on Project Purity. You know the rest, sweetheart. A few years later, your mother gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, died in childbirth, and her husband and daughter were left scrambling back into a Vault just to survive.

I hope this has all made sense, Leah. I just wanted you to know everything, the truth, finally. Everything I've ever done . . . I . . . I did for you. I love you so much, sweetheart. You are my everything.

Charon, if you're listening . . . I know you're older than me by centuries, so don't let me lecture you, but please take care of my girl. She's all I have. She's all I'll ever have.

Well . . . that's all, darling. I love you. Please, _please_, be safe. You don't need a lecture either, but I know you're reckless like your mother. Take care of yourself.

I love you, so, so much.

Goodbye, Leah."

Leah continued to stare at the Pip-Boy long after it had gone silent, her father's voice ringing in her sensory memory. She clung to it desperately, following the tendrils of her own memories, but eventually had to return to reality, that he was gone, dead.

"Well," she sighed, meeting Charon's wary gaze. "Wow. West coast." Her tone turned teasing. "You ever been, _babe_?"

Charon rolled his eyes, but hesitated to speak. ". . . a few times. I've had employers who took me through the west coast once or twice."

She squeezed his forearm. "Sorry to bring it up."

"It's all right. You're tired. You should sleep."

She smiled and pulled back the covers. They ducked underneath and Charon pulled her to his chest. She kissed his shoulder and nestled closer, wiping away a stray tear. "Thank you, for listening with me."

"Anything for you, smoothskin. Sleep."

With her father's voice echoing in her mind, Leah obeyed and finally tumbled into unconsciousness.

* * *

"You look like shit."

"Good afternoon to you, too, Butch," Leah replied sourly as she took her seat. "Good to see you're feeling better."

"Fit as a goddamn fiddle," he shot back with his customary grin. His hair was slicked up and he was back in his leather jacket, as arrogant as ever. He shrugged and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms and sending Knight Captain Dusk a fat wink.

"Does he have to be here?" she demanded shrilly, turning her deadly glare to Leah.

"'Does he have to be here' _Elder Montgomery_," Glade corrected with a conspiratorial smile in the honorary elder's direction.

"Jesus," Leah sighed as Gob burst into laughter, "everybody shut up! Thanks for that, Glade, but not even Dusk has to call me elder. That is Sarah Lyons' title and I don't care what anyone has to say about it. But since you guys are giving me the responsibility, I've thought up a few ideas. First thing's first though. Cross? Status update on the injured?"

Star Paladin Cross nodded and turned to the table at large. "Elder Lyons has recovered to good health, but has yet to wake up. The Outcast has awoken."

"Casdin?" Leah interrupted, looking shocked. "I thought you said you drugged him."

"The other one."

"Then you mean Knight Rockfowl," Leah corrected pointedly. She cleared her throat and raised her voice. "Let's get this straight. Rococo and McGraw got out there and fought with all they had just like the rest of us, so they deserve the same respect that we give each other. They're not to be called Outcasts _ever_. If they are and I find out about it, I will personally make sure you never forget it. While I'm on the topic. . . ." She glanced at Cross, who nodded for her to continue. Leah got to her feet to make sure everyone was paying attention. "The Outcasts split from the Brotherhood because they thought our priorities were in the wrong place. Fine and fair enough until they attacked us. To prevent something like this from happening in the future, I am hereby appointing McGraw to be Head of Advanced Technology. I know it's not a real position, do I look fucking stupid?" she snapped when Dusk made to complain. "Jesus, I know you don't like me but put a sock it in for just a second and let me finish. If there is someone who is permanently in charge of salvaging and researching technology, then the elder will be free to go for the more noble purpose of helping the surrounding settlements." She paused and looked back at Star Paladin Cross. "Erm, I'm not really sure what the protocol on these kinds of decisions are. . . ."

"Usually we put it to a vote," she replied helpfully.

"Oh-kay, then," Leah exhaled, not liking the sound of that. She turned back to the table and swallowed hard. "Then I'll put it to a vote, if that's how things go. All those in favor?"

There was a moment of silence. Charon was the first to put a hand up. Star Paladin Cross followed suit immediately after. Hands went up left and right until only Dusk and McGraw hadn't voted. Even Gob was lifting a shaky hand, glancing around uncertainly at the others.

"We're good?" Leah asked in excitement. "It's actually going to pass?"

"He deserves it. You deserve it," Gallows added to the new Head of Advanced Technology.

"Thank you," McGraw breathed with a tired smile. "To all of you. Especially you, Leah."

"Like Gallows said, you deserve it. Now. Where were we? God, I'm bad at this."

"Status report on the injured," Cross reminded her pointedly. "We'd just finished establishing that Knight Rockfowl is on the path to good health. Your friend, the girl . . .?"

"Amata Almodovar."

"Ms. Almodovar is also awake and her hand is bandaged up. She is on detox and being treated to overdoses of Med-X."

"Thank God," Leah murmured, squeezing Charon's hand as she retook her seat.

"Amata was there?" Butch demanded, sitting up straighter in his seat. "What the fuck was she doing there?"

"Casdin took her for the same reason he took you," Leah explained quietly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Butch shook his head. "That's okay, poindexter. I know you just got done fighting. I . . . I think I'm gonna go see her, if that's okay."

Leah nodded. "Go. Tell her I'll be there once this is over."

"Thanks." He got up and left the room with an air of nervousness.

"Casdin remains drugged, as you wished," Cross finally managed to finish.

"Right. That's another thing I wanted to bring up." Leah took a big breath and glanced at Charon for strength. "I had Casdin towed back, as you all know. It seems he survived the trip back, by some unjust goddamn miracle, so I have him sedated until we make a decision. I want him dead, but I didn't know if any of you wanted to wake him up and demand he justify his means or if you wanted a word with him, McGraw."

The old protector quickly shook his head. "No. That motherfucker deserves to die a painful death."

"I'm gonna agree with him," Glade volunteered.

"Agreed," Kodiak added.

"Are we all just gonna go with painful death, then?" Leah asked. There was a chorus of "yes" and a gaggle of nodding heads. "Well, that makes it easy. I wanted to let Sarah Lyons kill him, but it looks like she won't be able to anytime soon and I hate to waste resources on that bastard."

McGraw fidgeted in his seat. "Leah . . . do you mind if I do it? He . . . he killed Specialist Olin. I know she was no angel to you, but she . . . meant something to me." The admission of weakness seemed to go right through him. His face was pale, hands clenched into fists.

"Go for it," Leah allowed at once. "It's your right as much as ours, if not more so."

"Thank you."

"Is it going to be a ceremony?" Colvin asked, looking a bit ill.

"No, God, no," Leah insisted. "We will have a ceremony for Vargas, because he deserved it. Casdin gets no such honor. McGraw can hit him over the head with a brick and then shove him into the garbage incinerators for all I care."

"Good," Colvin breathed in relief.

"Yeah, I agree with you on that one." Leah fiddled with a pencil on the table in front of her, glancing down to look at the notes she'd prepared for this meeting. Charon squeezed her thigh encouragingly and she nodded, taking strength from that. "I have one last proposal, but it's got a personal edge to it."

"Go ahead, Leah," Glade offered supportively. "We're listening."

"God knows you deserve it by now," Kodiak added.

"Thanks," she laughed nervously. She cleared her throat and drummed her fingers on the edge of the table. "I have a question first. What ever happened to the original branches of the Brotherhood of Steel? The Lost Hills bunker?"

A hush of silence fell over the table and she was horrified to think she'd asked something insensitive, a social faux pas committed on the first day of this temporary goddamn job.

Star Paladin Cross was the first to speak and interrupt her panic. "We do not really know all the details."

"That's bullshit," Glade interrupted. His face fell. "Respectfully, I mean, Star Paladin Cross."

She nodded for him to continue, but her eyes were narrowed.

"Erm, right. Anyways, Leah, once Jeremy Maxson took control, he got greedy. He started really going for that pre-war tech and it pissed off the NCR."

"NCR?" Leah was immediately self-conscious as nearly everyone gave her an 'are-you-kidding-me?' look.

"The New California Republic. They came about after the defeat of a huge super mutant army and they did a balancing act with the Brotherhood. For a while, it worked out, but only just," Colvin explained. "When Jeremy Maxson kept pushing for more tech, the NCR were incensed. A war broke out between the two factions. We had better tech, but the NCR had so many soldiers that it was impossible for us to win. The Lost Hills chapter was defeated.

"The next closest one," he went on, "was the Mojave chapter. They, too, were fighting with the NCR, but they had a hold on Helios One – a solar plant. It created enough energy to be a decent stronghold to whoever had control of it. Elder Elijah was in charge of the Mojave chapter and he couldn't see the big picture. He had this tech fetish, had to have everything and know how it worked, so when the NCR got big enough to want to get Helios One, Elder Elijah refused. Just like before, NCR kicked us to the curb."

"And now?" Leah asked, not liking the sound of it.

"That's where nobody knows," Gallows finished. "They simply disappeared. Wiped off the map. A lot of people think they're still out there, hiding away somewhere, but I don't know. . . . Why do you ask?"

"Ooh," Leah sang, having gotten too caught up in the story. "I ask, because . . . well, for a few reasons. This whole Outcast fiasco shouldn't have been such a big deal. We should be a little stronger, or at least a little stronger in our _name_. I was hoping we could reconnect with Brotherhood chapters all over the country."

Silence again, only this time thicker, pensive, as they all thought about her words.

"I mean," she continued quickly, "doesn't it make sense that we're stronger in numbers? If we always have these little wars like the ones between the Brotherhood and the NCR or the one we just had against the Outcast, why doesn't the Brotherhood just bulk up so that when one chapter needs help, another will be right there to assist?"

"Interesting," Star Paladin Cross admitted quietly from beside her. "An interesting idea."

"A smart idea," McGraw grunted with a smile.

"A terrifyingly smart idea," Gallows agreed. "Who put you in charge again?" he asked teasingly.

Leah chuckled, still anxious.

"You said there was a personal angle to this as well?" McGraw hinted.

"My father lived in Nevada before he came here. I'd like to learn more about him, if I can," she confessed in a rush of words.

"You are saying _you_ would like to be the charter, flying all the way across the country to initiate contact?" Star Paladin Cross realized, her eyes widening in the first real human reaction any of them had ever seen of her.

"That's correct," Leah confirmed. "Well, Charon and I."

"Of course," Glade said in a faux cough, winking when she glared at him.

"I think it's a brilliant idea," Kodiak interjected. "We haven't made contact with any other Brotherhood factions before. Maybe it's just what we need to solidify and strengthen ourselves. It's fantastic, Leah."

"Thanks," she muttered with a blush. "But let's put it up to a –,"

"_Fuck_ the votes," Dusk interrupted. "Whatever it takes to get you the hell out of here."

Leah turned away, pointedly ignoring Dusk as the rest of them glared at the knight captain and Cross let out an actual hiss of anger. "All in favor?"

"Oh, just go already," Glade said as there was a general murmur of assent. "Who's gonna take over while you're gone?"

"Well, I won't leave yet. We'll wait and see if Sarah Lyons wakes up. If she –,"

Rapid footsteps made them all look up and Butch came bursting into the room. "Blonde," he gasped. "She's awake. Wants to see you, Leah."

Leah inhaled deeply. If that wasn't just perfect timing, absolutely perfect. She grabbed Charon's hand and pulled Cross after them by the shoulder. "She'll want to see you, too," she promised.

Cross actually smiled. "I would like to see her."

"I know you do."

"Haven't you heard?" Glade joked as they passed. "Leah knows everything."

"I wish I did," she admitted quietly. "God, I wish I did."

* * *

**Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! It means a lot!**

**Dolly-Cola, you asked a question that this chapter will just begin to answer haha. If you stick around, the rest of your questions will be answered as well :) **


	26. Concessions

It was a gloomy and dark day in the Capital Wasteland. The people gathered in the large courtyard shivered in their clothing, the windy chill pulling blood up beneath their skin, wrapping cold like ice around their bones. They clung to each other, frozen and yet unfeeling of the cold – unfeeling of _anything_ past the grief.

A thin, Wasteland-weathered young woman with night black hair and blue eyes that hit straight to your heart sat between two ghouls. She was wearing a black dress she had borrowed from Elder Lyons. Fighting back tears, she hunted out and found the taller ghoul's hand with her own.

Wordlessly, unhesitatingly, he laced his thick fingers through hers. They did not look at each other. Did not speak. But he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb when she comfortingly gave his hand a squeeze.

". . . here to honor Antonio Salvador Vargas for his courage, for his dedication, for his honesty and faith . . ." the blonde was going on. She was standing at a podium in the middle of the courtyard, though barely able to keep on her feet. The black woman in power armor beside her put a hand on her shoulder, supportive in more ways than one. The blonde shrugged her off, steeled herself, and went on in a wavering voice.

The thin woman in the crowd grabbed the other ghoul's hand and held it as well. He smiled briefly down at her and sniffled quietly. He had been with Vargas, too. It was hard to be here for all of them.

When two men in power armor lifted up the long, dark coffin and began to carry it toward the outer gates, the taller ghoul released the woman's hand so that he could cover his face. She glanced up at him, lips quivering, and squeezed his thigh.

It was a hard time. A time when "you did the best you could" just didn't cut it, when "I'm sorry" and "I'm sad for you" did not come close to being comforting. So she pulled him toward her and leaned her cheek against his hard shoulder, clothed in the black suit she normally would have licked her lips to see on him – just not today.

The two men carefully brought the coffin down to the waterfront, where they gently lowered it onto the dry sand and began to ease it into the water. It bobbed into the swell and was taken away, to the afterlife, to the opposite shore, to God-only-knows-where.

And the world said goodbye to Antonio Salvador Vargas.

* * *

"Did you know him? The man who died?"

Rockfowl grimaced as he tried to push himself into a sitting position. It was like that godforsaken cot in Underworld three years ago. He clutched at his back and winced as his hand grazed the tender skin. "Not well, but – ngh," he grunted as his movement tugged on the IV of RadAway in his arm, "he . . . he seemed like a good man."

"Hmm." Amata settled back against the wall, tucking the sheets in self-consciously under her legs on her left side. Her right hand was still bandaged up. The emotional anguish had faded to a bearable level and now it was just a huge physical inconvenience.

Rockfowl studied her expression, curious. Leah seemed to care a great deal about this Amata girl. She'd told him that they grew up in the Vault together, so it only made sense. She was beautiful like Leah, but in a different way. Where Leah was all perfect porcelain and a flash of blue eyes and thick pink lips, Amata was olive skin and earth-colored hair and some floral fragrance that clouded his senses. He liked it, though. She was quieter than Leah, too, less obnoxious, a bit more thoughtful before she spoke.

"How do _you_ know Leah?" she asked in her muted, thick voice, brown eyes rolling up to meet his. "I've told you my story. Would you tell me yours?"

"Not much to tell," he replied after a moment of thought. His fingers twitched as they scraped through his dark hair. "You know I used to be an Outcast – I left when shit like cutting people's fingers off started happening," he clarified once again. Amata waved that away and he continued. "Outcasts did regular trips around the Capital Wasteland, just to make sure shit was still in order and do some scanning for any new technology they could find. I met Leah on one of these rounds. She was . . . well, she was Leah," he admitted with a gruff laugh. "She was sunbathing like the crazy person that she is. I had just gotten done killing seven super mutants and there she was _sunbathing_, without a care in the world."

"You fell for her," Amata guessed, smiling knowingly.

"Hard as a goddamn rock. But it soon became clear that she was spoken for, whether she knew it or not." Rockfowl shrugged and let out a hiss when it jostled his injured ribs.

"Yes, I figured that out pretty quickly, too." She traced her bottom lip with a thin finger of her left hand, thoughtful, quiet. "He's good for her, I think. Strong like her."

"It's taken me a while to be able to agree with you. I hated him for a long time," Rockfowl confessed, rubbing the back of his neck. "But now I see that they're right for each other."

"It's hard _not_ to fall in love with her," Amata comforted him. "For a long time, I thought . . . well, I didn't think I was _in_ love with her, but when we were teens, we used to . . . we would . . . well." Her face flushed pink – it was startlingly attractive. "We were best friends," she started to explain, her words coming out in a rush, "and I didn't know a lot about culture and social interactions outside of the Vault. All I knew was how I felt and how Leah felt and how when we used to sneak scotch out of her dad's cabinet and run off to my room and . . . touch each other and . . . well, it just felt natural. That's all. It didn't mean anything." She took a big gust of a breath and chanced meeting his gaze again. "Anyways, what I was trying to say is that I understand being enthralled with her. It happens to the best of us."

"Jesus." Rockfowl swallowed hard, finding it suddenly extremely hard to focus. "You mean you and Leah used to . . . erm, make love? Together?"

Amata chewed on her bottom lip. "We were young and we didn't know any better." She splayed her hands out – one thin and calloused and the other bandaged – and shrugged. "That's my only explanation."

"Far be it from me to judge you for it," Rockfowl interjected, barely concealing a smile. He hesitated, before mumbling, "Is she as good as I imagine her to be?"

At that, Amata let out a shock of laughter, voice clear and light and gorgeous. "Even better."

* * *

Gob barely stifled a yawn, blinking the moisture from his eyes as the wind assaulted his face through the window of the truck. Fawkes was grumbling something nonsensical behind him, probably more Zen philosophy garbage. Whatever kept him happy – and kept him from going feral on him – was no problem at all. Let the mutant grumble.

When Tenpenny Tower came into view he almost cried out in joy. He floored the gas pedal and they zoomed through the night. He stomped the brakes just outside of the gates and leapt from the cab without glancing back.

"It's Gob! Gob's back!" Sue called from where she stood balancing on the gate above.

"I'm back!" he agreed in a triumphant shout. "Where's Nova?"

"Just inside, they're having dinner!"

"Good," he panted, sprinting in through the double doors and skidding into the atrium. Nova was just leaving the restaurant, RJ and Bumble at her sides. She looked up and looked at him and he was looking at her and then they were in each other's arms and she kissed him so hard that he cut his lip on his teeth.

"Gobbie," she moaned through a sob, gray eyes thick with moisture. "You're okay? You're all right?" Her hands patted his body roughly from head to toe as she searched for injuries.

"I'm perfectly fine," he answered with a smirk, catching her hands and kissing her knuckles.

"And Leah and Gramps?" RJ demanded, clutching Bumble protectively beside him. "How are they?"

"Also fine."

He breathed a sigh, even shaking a little bit. "I'll skin them fucking alive for all the worry they put us through," he hollered belligerently, but the relief was clear in his voice.

"They did what they had to do to save the world," Bumble protested through a tired yawn. "Don't be mean to them."

"Save the world, yeah, right. More like give me a goddamn heart attack. Come on, Bumble, you should sleep." He nudged her toward the stairs and she slowly started to climb them. RJ turned back to Gob, who was currently being near-mauled as Nova was doing her best to meld their bodies together. "Did they say when they would return?"

"Not sure, but soon. Leah . . . they wanted to go on a trip. Cross-country. You'll see when they come home."

"Oh, fuck me," RJ growled furiously.

"No, thanks. I think I'll go spend the night with my smoothskin instead," Gob elected with an exhausted smirk. "It's been too goddamn long and I've been through too many life-threatening situations to handle you rotten kids." He lifted Nova up and threw her over a shoulder, grinning at her wild shrieks of surprise. "I am going to fuck the shit out of my smoothskin, so get out of my way, kid!"

RJ quickly stepped aside, holding back a gagging noise. The damn ghoul had been spending _way_ too much time around Charon.

* * *

Leah spent the night on Sarah's couch, listening to the blonde speak – about the Brotherhood of Steel, about Vargas, about herself, them, Charon, everything. Leah lent her ears for the night because Sarah deserved it.

"Are you feeling better?" she demanded in concern as the Brotherhood elder clutched at her stomach with a wince.

"I'm great, peachy-keen," Sarah ground out bitterly. She shook her head, blonde hair sagging down around her ears. "No, I'm not feeling any better, but my body is doing better."

"I understand." She took Sarah's hands and squeezed them once before letting her go. "Have you thought about my proposition?"

"In depth. And I think it's a fantastic idea. I kind of hate you for it," she joked with a weary laugh.

"Why's that?" Leah asked, frightened.

"No, I don't actually hate you. I'm just thinking you would've made such a better leader than me. You sure you don't want the elder title?"

Leah shuddered. "God, no. That is for you and you alone, Sarah."

"Thanks for taking over for me." She took a deep breath. "I will sponsor your trip to the west coast. You can take one of the vertibirds we confiscated from the Enclave. We'll give you all the supplies we can spare."

"Oh, thank you!" Leah cried, throwing her arms around her friend's shoulders.

"Ow. And you're welcome."

"Sorry, sorry." She leaned away, holding her hands up. "Thank you. I'd better leave soon, then, to get back to check on the kids."

"Who's going with you to New Vegas?" Sarah smiled unexpectedly. "Besides Charon, of course."

Leah nibbled on her bottom lip, a gesture of uncertainty the elder hadn't seen in a long time on that young face. "To tell the truth . . . I don't know. I don't want to bring the kids. They're safe here and I'll die before I jeopardize that again. Fawkes loves the children and I'd hate to separate them. Nova and Gob would love to come, I'm sure, but they also like the stability at Tenpenny. I don't know," she repeated finally with a shrug. Blue eyes whizzed up to meet blue. "I have to think about it."

"Well, take off tonight if you need to. I have everything under control here. Cross has been helping a lot. Cyborg or not, she's a fucking godsend." She ran her hands over her face. "Thank you, Leah, for everything you've done. You saved all of us and the Citadel, the entire Capital Brotherhood, and now you're going to cross the entire country to patch us up with our roots. Who am I to tell you no?"

"One of my best friends," Leah confessed sincerely. She then smirked. "Though, you're right, you'd be hard pressed to stop me."

"Don't I know it. Go on, Vault Girl. I've got things under control here. Cross will give you our secret spy signal before you go so you can contact us at any time."

They embraced once more, gentler this time, and Leah paused before turning for the door. "Sarah?"

The elder raised an eyebrow, thrown off by her wavering tone. "What's up?"

"Do you remember travelling here, from Lost Hills? At all?"

Sarah was already smiling. "No, sorry. Not a thing. I was just a baby."

"Right." Leah almost looked crestfallen. "Stupid question. I'll be off, then. Wish me luck, huh?"

"Good luck," Sarah replied dutifully, sending her friend off with a brief salute. "It won't be the same here without you."

* * *

Leah walked under the blaring fluorescents of the Citadel hallway. She was just turning the corner toward the med bay when she nearly walked into McGraw. He apologized and briskly stepped aside, his face hard.

"You all right?" she asked, touching his shoulder.

He jerked away, but nodded. "Fine," he barked, marching past her toward his new rooms. The opening of the med bay door brought her attention to two Brotherhood initiates carrying a body toward the basement, where the incinerator was.

Casdin.

That certainly explained McGraw's bad mood, then. Leah charged onward and turned into the med bay.

Amata had tears streaming down her face and Rockfowl was putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. She ducked her face against his arm, sniffling quietly.

Leah raised her eyebrow at him, a small smile playing across her lips despite the circumstances. "Rococo," she greeted him. _Making friends, I see._

"Leah," he replied dryly, seeing the amusement in her eyes. "Good to see you."

"Good to see you alive," she agreed, her smile fading as she crossed the room to Amata. The overseer threw her arms instinctively around Leah's waist and she held her back. "Butch stopped by?"

"Y-yes," Amata whispered shakily. "And he was nice, for once. Can you believe it?" she laughed through her tears.

"Nope. Not one bit. But I'll take your word for it." Leah brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead.

"Thank you, Leah, for saving me. Even after everything I did. I'm so sorry, so –,"

"Shut up," Leah whispered, covering her friend's mouth with her hand. "I was pissed, it was a bitchy move, but whatever. We're past it now. I'm glad I got there in time and that's all we're going to say about it." She looked back to Rockfowl as Amata started to cry again. "I'm leaving tonight."

"'But it's so dark!'" he mocked in a high-pitched imitation of her voice, "'oh, I'll worry so much! Are you sure you can make it?'"

Leah scowled and punched him, right in the side. He erupted into a coughing fit, spitting blood out onto the tile.

"Jesus, Leah! What the fuck?"

"Don't mock me. I was a worry wart. I got over it." She sniffed defensively, patting Amata absentmindedly as she stuck her tongue out at the old defender.

Rockfowl growled threateningly back. "Whatever. Where are you going _now_, Vault Girl?"

"Nevada."

That threw him off. He raised his brows in a silent question.

"Yes, secret Brotherhood stuff." She rolled her eyes. "I'm just going to see if I can find the west coast Brotherhood and connect them."

"That makes sense," he agreed, nodding, "we'll be that much stronger."

"Exactly." She grinned at his use of 'we' instead of 'the Brotherhood.' After all, he was as much a part of them now as she was. "Amata, want to hitch a ride back to 101 with us?"

"I'd love to," she replied meekly, "but I'm not fully healed yet. Still hooked on Med-X. The detox is killing me." As if for evidence, she itched helplessly at her arms. "Once Star Paladin Cross says I'm all good, I can get a ride from the Brotherhood back to the Vault." She smiled, her expression brightening. "Rococo offered to take me."

"Did he, now?" Leah glanced over at _Rococo_, nodding once in approval. "Well, then, you're all set. I'll come home again sometime soon and visit when I do. Both of you be safe, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, _Mom_, get out of here," Rockfowl yapped, waving her away, embarrassed. "We'll be just fine while you're gone, believe it or not. I think the Brotherhood will be able to keep the Capital Wasteland together without your help for a while."

"God, I fucking hope so," Leah breathed before marching off with a whip of her black hair and a shrug of her thin shoulders.

* * *

McGraw was retreating to the nondescript room he'd inherited as new Head of Advanced Technology or whatever bullshit name Leah had thought up for him. He was touched and he was happy. It was just a stupid name. With a fatigued sigh, he pushed the old wooden door open.

He immediately fell into a combat stance as he saw the figure of a woman sitting primly on the edge of his bed. With a blindingly fast movement, he closed the door behind him and smacked the light switch beside him. The glossy fluorescents came on to expose a furiously familiar face.

McGraw relaxed into a glare. "What the fuck do you want, Durga? I'm not in the mood to bicker tonight."

The quartermaster got uncertainly to her feet, a foreign expression of confusion on her face. "Neither am I," she murmured cryptically.

"Enough with that brahmin-crap. What are you here for?"

"Look," she began and her words came out in a rush, "you've stood up to me even though I've been a bitch to you and you stuck through with the Brotherhood even though you were an Outcast. Through all of it you've been there and I'm here to say that I'm sorry for being so mean and if I could I would take it all back and –,"

"God, shut up," McGraw snarled, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

Durga stopped talking, her lips twisted into a more-customary sneer. "What the fuck does that mean? I'm here to apologize, dick!"

"And I'm here to tell you that I don't care to hear it." He shrugged out of his coat and it dropped to the floor with a thump as his laser pistol hit the cement. "Unless I'm reading all this nervousness wrong and you _didn't_ come here to have sex with me?"

Durga gaped at him, her mouth hanging open unattractively for a few long moments, before she allowed him an angry smirk. "You think you're so fucking smart."

"And yet I'm not wrong," he hinted, grabbing her by the wrists and tugging him toward her. She submitted to his touch and, in a sudden burst of confidence and certainty, threw her arms around his neck and met his lips with her own.

They tumbled together onto the bed, a symbol of acceptance, forgiveness . . . of hope.

* * *

"There's one last thing I have to do."

"Smoothskin, I would rather get back to the children as soon as possible."

"I know, love, I know. I just need to teach someone a lesson."

". . . well, then, by all means."

"Oh, so now that you know what I'm going to do, you're all gung-ho?"

"Whatever you need to do, I will support you."

"You sneaky bastard, Charon! You just want to see me get in another catfight! That tumble with Carolina Red sparked your interest in girl-on-girl, huh?"

"I never said any such thing. Now shut up and beat the shit out of her. We are here."

"You'd better pay attention, so you can get your jollies off to these memories later."

"_Smoothskin_."

Leah knocked at Dusk's door with a few good pounds, bloodlust rushing in her ears.

The knight captain answered the door in a sheer sleeping gown with a sneer already on her face. "Oh, look, it's the Vault Princess. What the fuck do _you_ want?"

Without another word, Leah leapt at the knight captain, sending them both flying to the ground. She fisted one hand in Dusk's short black hair and punched her with the other. Dusk cried out in pain and shock and Leah sank her fist into her stomach. Dusk bucked in a frantic attempt to throw her off, flailed her arms, managed to smack Leah across the face. The Vault Girl bit out a curse and yanked the hand in her hair, making her shriek in pain. She kneed Dusk in the stomach and punched her once more in the nose, breaking it again. Dusk keened and rolled over, whimpering and clutching at her nose.

Leah flexed her hand as she rose to her feet, knuckles searing in pain. "From day one, you've doubted me, insulted me, called me names and tried to get me to leave, despite everything I've done for the Brotherhood. Lucky for both of us, I'm leaving for a while. But don't doubt me on this: if I ever see you again – and I ever hear one more derogatory word leave those fat lips of yours – I will fucking end you." She craned her neck to pop it and gave her one last loathing expression before stepping over her body and leaving the room.

Charon was waiting outside, a smirk burning away on his face. Cloudy blue eyes pegged hers, eager and questioning.

"No, I'm not having sex with you right now," Leah protested with an irritated frown. "What happened to 'I'd rather get back to the children?'"

"You happened," Charon replied simply, falling into step beside her and flashing his hand out to squeeze a butt cheek to prove his point.

"You dog." Leah slapped his hand away but couldn't help smiling. "If you were anyone else, Charon, I swear to God."

"I know. Lucky me."

* * *

"Erm . . . I am beginning to think this is a bad idea," Charon rasped, climbing reluctantly into the vertibird.

"You kiddin' me?" Butch demanded as he clutched fearfully at the safety bar beneath the seats. "I knew it was a shitty idea from the start! Catching a ride with you guys was fuckin' retarded!"

"Nonsense! I'm a great driver!" Leah spouted happily back. She flipped a few switches and the vertibird thrummed to life beneath them. "Thanks for the 'bird, Cross!"

Star Paladin Cross nodded solemnly up at her. She almost offered her a smile. "You have been a great help to us, and to me. I wish you wellness, safety, and success on your endeavor."

"Me, too," Leah joked with a grin and a wink. "Charon, get that sweet ghoul butt of yours up here! We need to go see our babies!"

"Please be careful, smoothskin," he growled, gritting his teeth when the vertibird lurched heavily into the sky.

"You're such a baby. Careful's my middle name." She rolled her eyes.

"If your middle name's careful, then mine is Sugar-Plum-Fairy-Tits," Butch replied flippantly from the back. "Shut up and drive, poindexter, before I vomit on your seats."

To everyone's shock, Charon burst into laughter. "Normally I want to kill you, annoying smoothskin," he explained through chuckles to the shocked Butch, "but that was funny. Maybe I will save throttling you for another night."

"Hip-de-fucking-do."

* * *

"Thanks for the ride. Glad you didn't kill me, Poindexter."

"I'm bittersweet about it." Leah grinned and pulled him into a tight hug. "I'll miss you, believe it or not."

"Or not," he snarked. "But yeah . . . we've been through a lot together, haven't we, geek? It'll be weird not havin' you around. But I'll see if I can survive," he added in a deeply sarcastic tone.

"Do your best . . . or don't," she shot back, clambering back into the vertibird. "Seeya, dick!"

"Bye, dweeb!"

Butch watched her go with a lot of nostalgia and a little bit of jealousy. It was weird to be back at the Vault, but someone had to take charge of things until Amata got back. He would do his best to take care of them. He hated them, but he figured it was his responsibility. At least for now.

Goddamn dweeb was getting to him.

* * *

Bumble heard a footstep and was instantly sitting up in bed, her small hands clutched around the 9mm pistol she kept at her bedside table. "Who's there?" she demanded in a high, clear voice. Of all nights for Lucy to spend cleaning, it had to be the one that there was an intruder. . . .

"I'm here to kiiiiill you little giiiiirl," an eerily familiar voice sang through the darkness. "I vaaant to drink your blooood!"

Bumble blinked, her fingers twitching uncertainly around the gun. "Leah?"

There was a ghostly, feminine laugh as a response and then the light was flickered on. Charon came surging forward and yanked Bumble from her bed, picking her up and twirling her around. Leah watched with a loving smile.

"You're back!" Bumble screeched, clinging to Charon with all she had. "You're back, back, back!"

"I like the bloodthirst," Leah approved with a smirk.

"Yes," Charon agreed in a rasping hiss. He smiled at the tiny girl in his arms. "I approve of the speed and aggression," he informed her heartily. "You are certainly our girl." He carried her back out into the atrium, where the rest of the children were up and waiting in their sleeping clothes, looking messy and tired, but happy to have their adoptive parents back. Dogmeat barked joyfully and rushed over to rub up against Leah's legs.

"Where are Gob and Nova?" Leah demanded with a frown, running her hands through Dogmeat's shaggy fur. "That whore isn't out here in a mess of tears and relief to see us back alive?"

"She's, ahm," RJ began with a cough, "she's _busy_. I don't know what you said to Gob, Pops, but he picked her up caveman style and hasn't shown back up for hours."

Charon barked out a laugh as Leah facepalmed. "Finally, the man grows a pair. You see the good I have done, smoothskin?"

"Don't act like you haven't caused a bunch of shit before!" she threatened, wagging a finger in his face that he batted away in irritation. "Why don't you explain to RJ why Rockfowl's ribs broke so easily when he was hit by the blast? Huh?"

Charon rolled his eyes and turned to his honorary son with a devilish smirk. "Some asshole wanted to have sex with _my_ smoothskin, so I threw him against a wall and cracked his ribs. It is not my fault that he didn't get them fully healed before rushing off into battle."

RJ howled with laughter, leaning over and smacking his thigh as his face turned red.

"Jesus, you're such a bad influence!" Leah smacked Charon's shoulder furiously. "If RJ kills some guy barking up Lucy's or Princess's skirts, you're the one responsible!"

"Lucy _or_ Princess?" RJ demanded, his laughter dying immediately. The two aforementioned girls blushed red and glared at each other before glancing away. "What the fuck, guys?"

"Well, not even _we_ know which one you like," Leah admitted, splaying her hands out as she explained. "We'll make up our minds when you do."

"She has a point," Charon conceded with a shrug.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, would you two butt out of my life for two fuckin' seconds?" RJ cursed and flopped down onto the chair behind the desk, crossing his arms and becoming a spitting image of his honorary father.

"RJ's failed love life aside," Leah persisted, holding her arms out to gesture to the rest of the kids – many of whom were snickering, "Charon and I have this trip that we think we're going to take."

"Are you kidding me?" Lucy demanded, forgetting her previous embarrassment. "You just got back and you're leaving again?"

"We don't want you to get into any more danger," Charon growled with authority thick in his voice. "You are safe here, there is constant food, water, and shelter and here you can stay _together_."

"And I put my foot down," Leah added.

"Well pick it the fuck back up," RJ spat, jumping back to his feet, "because you are the only family we've fuckin' got, Leah, and you're not goin' anywhere without us."

"The move to Tenpenny was to make sure you guys were _safe_," she insisted, pushing him back down into the chair. "I'm not jeopardizing that. I love you guys and I've never been to the west coast before. I don't know how well I'll be able to protect you."

"West coast?" RJ asked in confusion.

"We don't _need_ protecting anymore," Bumble said quietly, big eyes shining up at her. "You've taught us how to protect our_selves_."

"We're old enough now to follow you around," Sue insisted. "_All_ of us."

"You're not goin' anywhere," Éclair agreed with a smirk.

"I don't know if there's enough room on the vertibird for you," Leah protested weakly, sensing defeat.

"Then get more of 'em," Nick suggested flippantly. "Face it. We're going with you."

Leah looked to Charon, who was looking at her. He shrugged, as if to say 'they have a point, smoothskin,' in that husky, logical voice of his. He would pay for this. Sorely.

"Fine," she groaned gracelessly and cheers erupted throughout the atrium. "With the caveat that you must listen to _every word_ Charon and I say, even if it sucks! We're going in on foreign territory. Nobody's heard of the fearsome Lone Wanderer and her ghoul over on the west coast."

"Yeah, back to that," RJ remembered. "Why the west coast?"

"To contact the Brotherhood on that side of the country. Also, to find out more about my father," she explained. "It's going to be a long trip, especially if we need to take two vertibirds. I need all of you on your best behavior. MacCready flies with Charon, because I'm not sure I can handle you for hours on a time."

"Fine with me, Ma," RJ replied with a smirk, fist-bumping the ghoul beside him. "We get the party 'bird."

"Jesus Christ." Leah facepalmed. "All right. Enough excitement for tonight. Charon and I are getting to sleep. Tomorrow morning, we fly back to the Citadel, pick up another vertibird, tow it back here. By the time we return, we expect _everything_ to be packed. We'll load up the 'birds, drop by Megaton to say goodbye to Joseph, and then we'll be on our way. Understood?"

"Crystal fuckin' clear," RJ snorted with a roll of his eyes. "Be _more_ bossy. I'm not feeling the bitchiness quite enough."

Leah let out a screech of fury and tackled him. They both landed flat on the ground and she pummeled him with light punches, kneeing him in the side in the process, until he was shouting for her to stop. She eased up and got back to her feet, breathing hard.

"Jesus Christ, okay, okay, I get it! Stop being a brat!" he cried, crawling shakily back to his feet.

"As long as we're crystal fuckin' clear," she quoted back at him with a toss of her head. "Everyone get some sleep. I'll be waking you up bright and early to start packing."

They all groaned in unison and Charon cut them off with a vicious snarl. "You were the ones who wanted to come . . . remember?" He smirked when they all fell silent and hooked an arm around his smoothskin's shoulders as they pattered off to their various bedrooms. "Come on, smoothskin. Let's go to bed."

"I've never heard you say anything better," she sang back, squeezing his butt appreciatively. He yelled in shock and pulled away, growling threateningly. She giggled and took off for the elevator, smacking the button for the top floor as he shook the surprise from his limbs and took off after her.

"You'll pay for that," he snarled, stalking closer, hands outstretched.

She smirked back at him, pink lips twisted up at the corner, blue eyes flashing darkly, and replied, "Make me," just as the doors closed in front of her.

Fucking smoothskin.

* * *

**DaLover pointed out that I've been referring to Cross as an android, when really she's a cyborg. Doy, stupid me. The words got mixed up in my head. Either way, thanks to her (my loyal reviewer indeed!) Pattyn for updating again and being an all-around cool person, FanfictionFan360, Dolly-Cola, lightan117, and Eve of Destruction for the reviews! **


	27. One Last Favor

"Robert Joseph MacCready, wake the _fuck_ up!"

RJ was sent over the edge of his bed and fell hard on the cold ground, crying out in shock and pain. He blinked his eyes open to see Lucy standing above him in one of Susan Lancaster's old dresses, completely indifferent that it had once been owned by a now dead woman. The practicality was kind of sexy.

"Stop looking at me like that. We gotta start packing and you have a _lot_ of shit to pack up. What is this, even?" she asked, picking up a nearby gadget from his table.

"That's a fishing rod. I build shit with them. Get off my fuckin' back," he quipped, regaining his dignity as he climbed back to his feet. He rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing sheepishly. "Look, Lucy, about what Leah said last night –,"

"What Leah said," she clarified, meeting his gaze, hazel touching blue, "is that we should be all packed up by the time they return. Unless you want her emasculating you again like that, I'd get on packing." She threw her hair over her shoulder much like Leah would have and stormed out.

The room felt a little colder without her in it.

"Fuckin' great."

* * *

"I'll beat you home!"

Charon looked up to see Leah's vertibird take off into the sky with a dangerous stagger before zooming forward toward Tenpenny. He growled a curse under his breath and pulled the steering wheel back, aiming his vertibird upward as well. The copter almost hit a looking post on the edge of the Citadel before finally taking flight and he nearly shit his pants in fright. Fucking smoothskin would be the death of him.

He could almost hear her laughter from all the way back here.

* * *

Fawkes returned from his morning walk to find Bumble struggling to tug an old suitcase out into the courtyard. He easily plucked it from her hands and clutched it in one big palm. "I will help you, Miss Bumble," he offered genially.

"Phew. Thanks, Fawkes," she sighed with a tired smile. "It's filled with guns. I can barely lift the thing."

"It is light as air to me." He placed it just inside the outer gates and they looked up as more children came filtering out from the atrium with various suitcases and bags. Princess's arms were stacked with duffel bags and she couldn't see her feet. She tripped on the last step and RJ dropped his suitcase just in time to catch her. He rolled his eyes and pushed her back up onto her feet, grabbing one of her bags and hitching it over his shoulder, affecting frustration despite the kind gesture. "Only take what you can carry, retard," he scoffed, strutting away with a roll of his eyes.

Bumble could have been imagining it, but she could have sworn she saw Lucy's eyes tighten as Princess pinked and smiled. Leah was the most observant person in the world. None of them had ever noticed the little love triangle. It would be interesting to see how that played out.

* * *

"Look at them, gathered down there!" Leah's tinny voice chirped out from the comm. unit in Charon's vertibird.

"Just like you told them to. We will make a good mother of you yet," he teased, pulling out a lever to expose the landing gear.

"Fuck you, too," she snarked back. They pulled in just beside each other outside the main gates, the propellers dying down simultaneously. Leah was the first to hop out of her vertibird, a wide grin on her face. "You guys actually did as I asked!"

"We've been known to every now and then," Lucy remarked dryly, cringing away as Leah pulled her into a bear hug.

"You're a miracle worker!"

"Thanks, Leah. I learn from the best," she laughed.

"All right, kiddos, pick a vertibird and buckle up." Leah hitched a thumb over her shoulder. "Fawkes, Gob, and Nova are flying with me, so that leaves a lot of you with Charon."

"I'm with Leah!" Bumble, Sue, and Lucy cried at once. Dogmeat bounded past them and immediately settled in the back of Leah's vertibird, resting his head on his paws and giving them all a big doggy smile.

"Well, that fills mine up," she said with a shrug. "The rest of you, go have fun with Charon."

There were various whoops and cheers as the rest of the group filtered toward Charon's vertibird. Leah watched over as Fawkes loaded various luggage into the cargo bay of her vertibird and Gob, Nova, Bumble, Sue, and Lucy piled into the passenger seats. Charon wandered over to her and yanked her into his arms, eliciting a yell of shock.

"Drive safe," he rumbled, nipping playfully at her neck from behind.

"Well I won't be able to if you distract me like this," she breathed, feeling him stir against her back. "Not in front of the kids," she stage-protested.

"Spoilsport." He released her with a chaste peck on the lips. "You lead the way to Megaton. I will be right on your tail."

"Ooo," she cooed, shaking her hips and sending him a wink, "you bet your sweet ass you will."

He rubbed a hand over his face and went back to his vertibird without another word. Before she really did kill him.

* * *

Joseph was trekking down the hill from the Megaton gates, ignoring Deputy Weld as he called out to him that the bomb was perfectly safe. Talk about old news. And he didn't like thinking about Leah, not while she could be out there getting killed in this whole Outcast war thing. He shoved the thought from his head and pulled his sack of caps out as he approached Crazy Wolfgang.

The beating of propellers drew their attention to the sky. Two vertibirds appeared from above Megaton and began to drop onto the ground beside them.

Joseph dropped his caps and pulled out his assault rifle with a curse, waiting for whatever threat within to come running out so he could send it straight to hell. He had a good life here and he wasn't about to let some . . . some . . . some very familiar children screw that up for him.

He set his rifle down and shook his head as Sue came sprinting out of the nearest vertibird and threw her arms around him. He was quickly swarmed by Little Lamplighters, one after the other.

"Good to see you, kid," a raspy voice grumbled and Joseph looked up in shock to see his honorary father standing before him.

"What the hell are you guys doing here?" he demanded, shakily picking up his bag of caps.

"Wow, nice to see you, too, a-hole," Leah greeted him with a smack on the shoulder. "You really know how to entertain guests, huh?"

Joseph shook his head again as Charon yanked him up into a one-armed man hug. "You guys are the assholes, showing up out of nowhere. What's with the unexpected visit?"

"We're leaving on a trip," Bumble supplied helpfully, smiling when Joseph hugged her. "We're going to Nevada!"

"Nevada?" he demanded, frustrated. "You show up out of nowhere, after I'm worried sick about you because of this Outcast shit I hear over the radio, and you're all of a sudden heading across the fucking country?"

"Well, we survived," Leah answered, "and now we're going to go see if we can get the west coast Brotherhood to be buddies with the east coast Brotherhood."

"Anyone but you, Leah," Joseph muttered with an exasperated shake of his head. "Come on. I'll fix you guys a cup of coffee before you leave." He jerked his head at Wolfgang as he passed. "Sorry, not buying today, I guess."

Leah and the gang followed Joseph back up the catwalks toward Gob's old saloon. She watched the controlled way he walked, the confidence in his step. He had really grown up. She would miss the big goober. A lot.

Maggie didn't glance up from behind the counter where she was pouring coffee into a mug for Lucy West. "Good, you're back. This damn coffee machine is on the fritz again and I can't get it to work. Stupid pre-war machinery breaking down again."

"I can give it a look," Leah offered with a smile.

Maggie looked up, her eyes widening immediately. "Leah!" she cried, brightening into a smile. She abandoned the coffee and rounded the counter to give her a hug. "It's so good to see you! I'm glad you're okay!"

"You, too. Taking good care of my Joey?"

"Oh, please," Maggie snorted. "Like he needs taking care of. He's been treating Penny and me just fine." She paused, taking in the restless shifting and fidgeting of all the children who had piled into their little saloon. "Why the visit?" she asked shrewdly, "not that I'm complaining."

"They're going on a trip," Joseph informed her in a grumble, crossing his arms across his chest and looking just so much like his adoptive father.

Maggie surprised the love of her life by smiling supportively. "Good for them, going on another adventure. Really, sweetheart, can you help me with this coffee machine?" she asked offhandedly, crossing back over to the machine, which was starting to emit a black smoke and the smell of burning coffee beans.

Joseph gaped at her, clearly having expected her to take his side. He recovered quickly and pointed out, "You have no idea what you're flying into, Leah. Shouldn't you stay and do a little more research before you take off?"

Leah tapped casually at her Pip-Boy and held it out to the angry young man she'd grown to love, a crooked smile on her face. "Done like disco, my son. I have every page of information and history about the west coast from the Brotherhood archives copied onto my Pip-Boy, not to mention tens of holotapes from my father about his own personal adventures. It's going to be a long trip, and I can play them while I fly."

Joseph frowned, looking away. Stumped.

"Look," Charon rumbled, slapping a broad, burnt hand down on Joseph's shoulder, forcing his son to peer grumpily up at him, "I am not going to let anything happen to Leah or the children. You have nothing to worry about."

The young man reluctantly smiled. "You can't blame me. Look at who raised me."

Leah chuckled and then realized that he was making fun of her. "Hey –,"

"And what I am saying is," Charon went on, cutting her off very pointedly, "we had to come to say goodbye before we left."

"Meaning it's a decision that's already been made," Joseph caught on astutely. "Yeah, I get it, Gramps. No need to beat me over the head with it."

"Just checking," RJ said with a snide shrug of his shoulders. "You never know how many brain cells you could lose workin' behind a bar."

"I almost forgot how fucking annoying you are, MacCready," Joseph sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What's all this racket?" a lilting voice asked from the second story and everyone looked up to see Penny standing at the railing. She blushed pink and shrank away from all of their stares. "Sorry! I didn't know everyone was here again. It's good to see you all."

"Nice ta seeya Penny!" Zip clattered loudly, waving both of his hands at once. He'd lost the stupid hat and goggles, but his enthusiasm seemed unshakable. "We miss ya hangin' out with us all!"

"Erm, you, too . . . Zip," Penny replied with a toothy smile.

Bumble pouted and clung to Leah's side. The Lone Wanderer ran her fingers comfortingly through the girl's hair, murmuring soft words to her. She knew Bumble held a grudge against Joseph's sister. Bumble had once told her that Penny had yelled at her to leave Joseph alone while he was teaching, that she was just jealous because she didn't have a brother anymore – her older sibling Andy had died of radiation sickness when they were very little.

Penny looked to the youngest Little Lamplighter, her eyes dark with shame. "It's good to see you all. I . . . have some work to do." She retreated quickly back into her room above.

"Hey, I always meant to thank you, Squirrel," Joseph muttered awkwardly to the tallest Lamplighter, who was standing in the back, "for taking care of her when I couldn't."

"It's Peter now actually," he corrected politely. "I've found that somehow the ladies don't find my old nickname very sexy."

Leah burst out in laughter as Charon shook his head. Leah's flamboyance and overt sexuality had rubbed off on all of the children. He didn't know if it was going to be a problem – especially in a flashy place like New Vegas – but he sincerely hoped not. He would rather die a painful death than have to deal with a baby if one of the children bore a child of their own.

"What ladies?" Lucy joked, earning herself a hearty yap of laughter from RJ.

"All right, all right," Leah quipped, nudging the children nearest her toward the door, "time for the peanut gallery to leave so Joseph can get back to his job."

The children slowly filed out, laughing and shouting boisterously. Jericho had chosen just that time to come in for a drink and cursed as he attempted to trudge in past the crowd of kids. "Goddamn fuckin' kids! Where the fuck did these runts come from, huh?" he yelled angrily at Joseph.

"You can shut the fuck up or get the hell out of my bar, you washed-up old waste of breath!" Joseph snapped back nastily.

Jericho blinked, shocked to have been put in his place. The confusion turned into a sneer. "Fine. I'll go see what Jenny has to offer then," he snarled, turning and leaving immediately.

Leah appraised her son with arched brows. "Nice," she approved. "I ran with Jericho for a couple of months and I could never get him to give in like that."

Joseph shifted, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "Er . . . I may have glassed him the other night for saying something rude about Maggie."

"Atta boy," Charon growled with a menacing smirk. "Defend your woman's honor with your last breath."

"Jeez, get the fuck out of the renaissance age, Pops," Joseph joked, ducking just in time to avoid a swipe of the ghoul's hand. He snickered as he rose back to his feet, dusting his hands off. His smile faded and his expression turned serious. "Look, before you leave . . . will you do me one favor?"

Leah and Charon exchanged a brief glance, their feelings mutual. "Anything," she promised. "Anything for you."

Joseph let out a breath of relief he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Good. Three Dog has talked about this place, somewhere with real, live trees?"

Leah caught onto his angle with a smile. "You want us to find it, huh?"

Joseph glanced over his shoulder, ensuring that Maggie was still wrist-deep in old scrap metal and stale coffee, cursing in frustration as she attempted to fix the coffee machine. "I want you to find it – and bring me back a bouquet of flowers. I think her old settlement was near this place. She dreams about the flowers sometimes, talks about her 'tree-friend.' I don't know what it means, but could you try to find out? As one last hoorah?"

Leah snorted good-naturedly. "He must get that from you, Charon. Whipped, the both of you whipped."

The two men gave her identical scowls and she laughed even harder. "I am no such thing," Charon assured her coldly, grabbing her by the shoulder and turning her toward the door. He turned to Joseph. "We will find this place with real trees and return to you with your flowers."

"Don't wait up!" Leah called over her shoulder as she trotted excitedly toward the door.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Joseph sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and watching them leave with equal parts mingled relief and disappointment. They really were family after all.

* * *

"Flowers? Really? _Flowers_?"

"Scream in my ear one more time, Robert Joseph, and I will throttle you like I did your mother," Charon hissed threateningly.

RJ immediately cringed away where he sat in the passenger seat. He'd heard the story and was not happy to imagine feeling the ghoul's wrath. "All right, we're cool, Gramps, we're cool."

Princess giggled somewhere behind him. "Are we almost there?" she asked once again.

Charon let out a feral snarl, one loud and terrifying enough to shut everyone up. Once they'd fallen silent, he informed them coldly, "We are starting to descend now. If one more person asks a stupid question or yells or even _laughs_, he or she will be left behind."

The only sound during the descent was the thrum of the engine and the whipping of the propellers above them. Charon led his vertibird after Leah's as close between two tall ledges as possible, down into the depths of a thin crag. He brought his vertibird in so close it was nearly touching hers before killing the engine. He smacked the button for the doors with his fist, nearly denting the metal there. The children eagerly grabbed their weapons and bags and launched themselves out of the vertibird.

Leah was waiting for him as he snatched up the Terrible Shotgun and stomped out after the children, his boots upsetting a cloud of dry dust. He was already shaking his head and she let out a small chuckle, one of her rare, clear laughs that she saved just for him. He tugged her into a quick kiss, growling softly against her lips when she continued to laugh. "They are absolute hell. I may crash the vertibird on our way back to Megaton. No one will ever know if it was an accident or not."

"You wouldn't dare," she gasped, affecting shock as she spread a hand out against his chest. "Why, I'd never expect such a cynical statement from my darling fiancé."

Charon rolled his eyes and grabbed her hand by the wrist, shaking it loose from his armor, but he found that he enjoyed hearing her refer to him with that word more than he'd imagined.

"You big softie," she teased as she bumped his hip with her own. "That word gives you a little hard-on doesn't it?"

At that, he smirked down at her, the cruel twist of his lips enough to send shivers down her spine as she was flooded with memories of seeing that expression through the darkness of various bedrooms. "Nothing about any part of me is 'little,' and we both know that . . . don't we, smoothskin?"

It should have been a crime against nature for one man to turn a woman on so much with a simple sentence. She left the chuckling ghoul behind and booked it toward her ghoul of chattering children, clinging to the distraction of their innocence and loud shouting to keep from losing her cool, tackling the love of her life, and fucking him into the next week.

"Hold it right there!"

Leah pulled her attention away from her ghoul at once, startled into action by the abrasive tone of the female's voice. A woman in a brown hood and tattered outfit stood pointed an assault rifle at the Lone Wanderer and her family. Leah slid easily through the crowd of her children and approached the foreign woman with a hard expression. "I understand we're trespassing on your territory, but you'd be wise to point that shoddy ass gun of yours away from me and mine."

The woman sneered right back at her – and Leah had to admit, she really had a pair, especially as Charon stepped up beside her, Terrible Shotgun in hand. "I am to allow no outsiders into our grove, especially those who threaten Him and our peaceful life here!" she announced proudly, hands tightening around her rifle.

"That's great and all," Leah said offhandedly, stepping even closer. She was encouraged even more when the woman's determination faltered and she did even twitch toward the trigger. "But you're not going to shoot us." Leah grabbed the barrel of the rifle and twisted it out of the girl's hands. "We are not here to harm you or your 'peaceful life.' We're here to see about some goddamn trees. That good enough for you?"

"Branchtender Maple! Step down at once!" the frail voice of an old man echoed toward them. Two wooden gates behind the woman were shoved open and the owner of the voice scuttled forward, looking apologetic and stern at the same time. "He has called for the outsiders to be welcomed in!"

"What's with the capital letter thing?" Leah muttered in an aside to Lucy beside her.

"They seem to be referring to a god?" the younger woman guessed with a shrug.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, but I figured it was too crazy to believe."

Charon sighed, "Smoothskin, after all we've been through, could another religious cult really be that hard to believe?"

"Please," the old man cut in, having the nerve to look impatient, "my name is Tree Father Birch. _He_ requests your presence. Won't you come in to meet Him?"

Leah brightened up. "Gladly! Nice meeting you, Acorn," she added dismissively as she passed the woman.

"It's Maple!" she screeched furiously, but she was ignored by the entire family as they marched proudly past her . . . into the gates of Oasis.

* * *

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away. . . .

Desmond Lockheart twirled the .44 magnum around a long finger, just for style, before sliding it into his pocket. People could say a lot of things about him. They could call him an asshole, a prick, say he had no soul, no feelings, no empathy or compassion. But they'd be goddamn liars if they said he had no style.

"Ah, fuck," he growled, spotting a drop of blood that had splattered onto his lapel. He brushed at it with his hand, but it was too late. Stained. "Bloody fantastic," he snapped. He glared down at the withered body of the ghoul he'd travelled hundreds of miles to kill. "You weren't fucking worth this suit, old man." He ran a ruined hand over his hair and let out a sigh. He pulled a rumpled piece of paper out of his pocket, ripped and splotched with blood as it was, and, with a triumphant grin, crossed the second to last name off the list.

Only one remained.

_Robert House._

His lips curved up into a smirk. "You'd better watch your fuckin' back, Bobby. Ol' Desmond's coming to New Vegas."

* * *

**DESMOND. I'm already salivating. **

**We're nearing the end, folks, and I have thanks to give you all for following through this long journey! To DaLover and Pattyn, as always, thank you for everything! lightan117 and FanfictionFan360, thank you for the reviews and thank all of you for reading :) **


	28. Reach Above The Trees

The children were in awe as their combat boots sank into plush grass and the sound of twittering birds chirped around them like a song. Bumble's eyes had never been wider as she peered around, slack-jawed, wondering vaguely if she was dreaming.

If they thought they'd been shocked, it was nothing to how Gob and Nova felt. The redhead clung to her ghoul's side with terrified, trembling fingers, asking him over and over if it was real, if she was tripping, did he drug her aqua pura when she wasn't looking as a prank?

"No, smoothskin," Gob choked out in mutual disbelief, patting her side absentmindedly as he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he was really staring at trees, flowers, bushes – so much _green_. "This is all very, very real."

Charon had to pick Leah up, because she'd nearly collapsed in shock at the gates. He carried her forward beneath the canopy of branches and leaves, feeling, if anything, a severe bout of nostalgia, remembering a time when trees had been commonplace.

Out of everyone, Fawkes seemed to take it best. He hummed to himself in gravelly tones, running his thick, stubby yellow fingers through the branches of a nearby tree.

"How is he so fucking calm?" Nova demanded, pouting as if it were unfair that the mutant's composure could surpass her own.

"In all things," he announced in his normal roaring voice, "a calm heart must prevail!"

Leah snickered, but was interrupted by Tree Father Birch turning around to see if they were following him. "Please – follow closely. Time is of the essence!"

Charon charged ahead, allowing Leah to slide from his arms and walk beside him. She hooked an arm around RJ's shoulders, propelling him forward despite his surprise-frozen limbs. Their group broke out from the valley of trees and found a round gazebo fixed in the middle of a large meadow. The whole thing was constructed of beautifully carved wood with vines running around the pillars. Thick logs were set out surrounding a small basin in the center, which was situated just in front of a modest throne.

More people in those odd, tan robes and hoods appeared from more valleys around them and took their places surrounding the basin. Some of their expressions were curious, like that of a small girl, but others looked distrustful, even angry. Leah shrugged them off and approached the gazebo under Tree Father Birch's lead. He walked around the basin and stopped in front of the throne, turning to face them all.

"Thank you for joining me in the Pavilion, outsiders," he announced in a hushed voice, bowing slightly at them.

"Again with the capital letters," Leah muttered out of the corner of her mouth at RJ.

"Would you just shut up and pay attention?"

"As I said, He has requested your presence. For so long, we have denied entrance to outsiders, but He dictates you have been chosen. You should be honored."

"Er." Leah cleared her throat and mumbled again to RJ, "Don't worry, I know how to deal with these guys." She raised her voice and boasted to Birch across the basin, "Verily! I hath received no greater honor than to receiveth the presence of your god!"

Charon facepalmed beside her with an audible smack, shaking his head.

The little black girl sitting on a nearby log giggled and Leah shot her a cool smile.

"Erm, yes," Birch agreed slowly, thrown off. "He is not _our_ god. He is everyone's god. You shall soon see, but before you can meet him . . . you must undergo our initiation ceremony."

The smirk disappeared from Leah's face at once. "Initiation. Ceremony."

"Yes," Birch persisted, looking irritated, as if dealing with a child. "An initiation ceremony."

"What does this ceremony include?" she demanded, a quiver rolling through her voice.

"You must drink the purifying sap in the basin before you. It will clear you of all sins and harmful toxins that could possibly hurt Him."

Charon stepped forward, crossing his arms. The little black girl gasped and shirked away, having never seen a ghoul before. Charon pointedly ignored that. "I shall undergo this ceremony."

"Bull_shit_!" Leah grabbed his arm and attempted to pull him back, to no avail. "I have more experience with these ceremony things," she hissed under her breath. "Let me do it."

"I don't know if you noticed, smoothskin," he whispered back just as angrily, "but the last time did not turn out so well." To prove his point, he brushed his fingers over the tip of her scar, peeking out just beneath her hairline.

"These people don't look like they're ready to cut my head open and you'll be here to protect me. You're stronger than me. I wouldn't be able to protect you _and_ the children if you passed out."

Charon frowned, and then scowled. She had a point. Before he could comment any further, Leah pushed past him to the basin. "I'll do it."

"All right, then," Birch said impatiently. "Please, take a drink of the sap."

Leah squeezed Charon's hand, swallowing past the sudden dryness in her throat. "Don't let me die, okay?"

He rolled his eyes. "After all this time, smoothskin, I will be severely fucking pissed if you die because you drank some sap. Go on."

She nodded dutifully and leaned downward, picking up a small wooden cup. She dipped it into the thick, viscous liquid and then lifted it to her lips. The liquid was sickly sweet and warm, cloying, suffocating as it ran between her lips and down her throat. It coated her insides in heat, like a shot of whiskey but worse and better at the same time, sweeter but remaining longer in her system. She shuddered, the cup falling clumsily from her hand and bouncing onto the soft grass below. A moist coo tumbled out of her lips. "This is strange," she informed her family, but the words seemed muffled and vibrated in an echo through her eardrums.

"Smoothskin?" Charon touched her shoulders and guided them forward so that she was facing him. She cocked her head to the side and the expression of utter confusion on her face would have seemed comical if Charon wasn't already so goddamned worried.

As it was, RJ let out a low chuckle, not wanting to interrupt Tree Father Birch as he began prattling on some nonsense about _cleansing_ and _His wrath_.

Charon shot an arm out and smacked RJ upside the head, growling warningly that it was certainly not amusing. He cupped his smoothskin's face and tilted it carefully upward. Her blue eyes flickered back and forth, as if she was desperately trying to meet his gaze but unable to control where she was looking. His thumbs lovingly stroked her cheeks as he ducked his forehead against hers.

Leah slurred out his name and then twittered out a small laugh. One of her hands clutched at his forearm, fingers twitching against his leathery skin, while the other darted up to cover her head as best she could. "Don't cut," she mumbled in a thick voice, "no scar."

"I promise," he whispered, shaking his head. "You're so goddamn stubborn. I could've done this for you."

"Well, why don't you just go ssssuck a dick for me instead," she suggested warmly before letting out another maniacal laugh.

Charon gritted his teeth as he heard Squirrel – or Peter – burst into laughter somewhere behind him.

"Your, erm . . ." Birch faltered as he realized he didn't quite know how to refer to her.

"My fiancée," Charon supplied coldly, unhappy that the old man had made her go through this.

"Your fiancée," Birch continued smoothly, "will soon fall into a – ah, well, there she goes," he added just as Leah collapsed against Charon's body. He quickly scooped her up into his arms, shooting the old man a deadly glare.

"My branchtenders will carry your fiancée into the Grove," Birch offered sternly, gesturing toward two men in the Oasis garb.

"_No one touches her_," Charon snarled at them so sharply that they immediately shirked away. "Tell me where she needs to go and _I _will take her there."

The two men glanced at each other and then at Birch, who reluctantly nodded.

"This way," the man on the left offered in a practical tone, seeming less dreamy or crazy than his peers. He gestured down a nearby break in the trees and Charon followed after him. Dogmeat trotted happily behind them, but the branchtender said nothing about it.

Charon nodded in approval. Good fuckin' luck to anyone who'd try to separate them.

* * *

Thin tendrils of consciousness slowly attached to Leah's mind and rooted themselves there. It was the most warm and comforting, if a little disorienting and blurry, awakening she'd ever experienced. Sensations caught up to her nervous system and she registered each individual feeling, one by one. She was lying down and beneath her was soft, sweet-smelling plush. Birds chirped out beautiful, foreign songs around her, accentuated by the _shah-shah_ of wind tangoing through the branches and leaves above. The sun, normally scathing and searing, filtered down through the branches, dulled to a pleasant warmth that bathed her skin.

The only thing she was missing was the large body next to her, rumbling unhappily that the time to wake up was being postponed another ten minutes – which would be repeated at least four times before he would reluctantly get up and ready for the day.

Leah stretched her fingers, experimentally toying with the blades of grass beneath them. Something cold and wet pressed against her temple, shocking her into sitting up and jerking away. Dogmeat was right in her face when she opened her eyes and she breathed a sigh of relief, scratching the shaggy fur behind his ears with a smile. "You scared me, pup."

He whined a little as if in apology, nosed her cheek, and then jerked his head upward. Leah peered straight up to see blue sky peeking out between dark brown branches. She stretched stiff muscles, and then looked around her surroundings through squinted eyes.

"Well, hello there," an extremely gruff voice greeted her.

She looked up – and up and _up_ – and gasped in surprise as she discovered she was sitting before a large face with one big eye, set almost comfortably in the trunk of an enormous tree. "That sap really did me in, didn't it?" she groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Oh, Charon is going to be so angry with me."

"No, no, yer alive," the tree assured her amiably, "and I apologize that ya had to do that stupid ceremony. I always tell 'em not to. They listen, but they don't _hear_, ya understand?"

"Er." Leah rolled up onto her knees, hands shaking uneasily on her thighs. "My name's Leah," she offered anxiously – when all else failed, she returned to her courteous Vault upbringing, "Leah Rose Montgomery. Who are you?"

"The name's Harold," the tree said back in a slow, almost depressed voice. "And before you ask, no, I'm not a talkin' tree. I used to be like you. I lived in Vault 29," he began to explain, stopping every now and then to take deep, shuddering breaths. His jaw worked with the grinding sound of wood against wood, large eye blinking slowly. "I fell into a vat of the FEV at Mariposa." His leaves quivered uneasily as he went through the memories. "Next thing I know, this tree starts growin' outta my head. I like to call him Herbert," he let out a growl of a chuckle, "but his real name is Bob. I just call 'im that because it makes 'im mad."

Leah smiled, blue eyes crinkling with the motion.

Harold found himself captivated – by the sweetness of her voice, the freshness of her youth, her pink lips, black hair so dark that it shone in the sunshine.

"How did I get here?"

The mutated man blinked his one, big eye, shaking his leaves to clear his mind of his embarrassing fascination, however understanding it may have been; it had been decades since he'd seen such a beautiful woman. "You were carried in by a great hulkin' ghoul. The crazies made him leave, but the dog insisted he stay. Almost bit Linden's hand off." He sniggered appreciatively.

"Thatta boy," Leah approved with a pat to the dog's great head. "Thanks for protecting me."

Dogmeat panted joyfully up at her before lowering his nose to the ground and sniffing loudly about, padding this way and that. He meandered to the base of Harold's trunk and happily lifted his leg.

"NO!" Leah and Harold bellowed simultaneously. She heaved onto her feet and grabbed her dog by the collar, drawing him quickly away from the mutated tree-man. "No, Dogmeat," she scolded harshly, pointing her finger at his nose, her face scrunched up into a stern expression, "_no_. We _don't_ pee on Harold! _No_ peeing on Harold!"

Dogmeat whined and ducked his face between his paws, tucking his ears in, apologetic and embarrassed.

"It's okay, buddy," Leah reassured him with a sigh, kneeling down to scratch behind his ears. "I still love you, you just can't pee on Harold, okay?" She looked back up. "Erm . . . is there a tree around here that _isn't_ directly connected to you?"

Harold heaved a sigh. "All trees come from Herbert," he explained with a shudder of his branches. "It's kinda embarrassin', really. Once a year, Herbert blooms these seeds. They fall off an' then they get carried on tha wind and they land and grow."

"That's fascinating," Leah gasped, craning her head back to take in the huge canopies of green above her. "This all just came from you, Harold. Amazing. Oh. Right." She shook her head. "Is there anywhere you don't mind my dog peeing?"

"That tree, over there."

"Okay, Dogmeat. Go pee on that one."

Dogmeat trotted up to the indicated tree, glanced at Leah for confirmation, and then resumed lifting his leg to finish his business.

"Good boy," she encouraged kindly before turning back to Harold with a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that."

Harold rumbled loudly. "It's no problem at all," he assured her. "But we should get to why I called you here."

"Right."

"I want you to kill me."

Those six words echoed softly around the meadow, shocking Leah to the very core. She blinked up at him, distraught, confused. "I'm sorry?"

"Kill me," he repeated, almost eagerly. "I've been here for decades, rooted to this spot. It gets pretty borin' after all that time, Leah. I just wantcha to kill me."

"Erm." Leah dithered, completely taken aback. "I . . . well . . . I. . . ."

The desperation and depression were clear on his large, deformed face.

"How would I go about killing you? I'm not necessarily agreeing to!" she added quickly, seeing the hope spring anew in his expression. "I have to think about it. But if I decide to, how would I do it?"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure where all ma insides are," he grumbled thoughtfully. "I think they're in the caves underground. Sometimes we feel things rootin' around down there, ticklin' us, don't we, Herbert?" He chortled conspiratorially. "Sorry, Bob. Ya know it just amuses me."

Leah smiled uncertainly and dusted blades of grass from the skirt of her merc charmer outfit. Tiny cuts from the grass were starting to itch on the bare skin of her legs and she scratched absentmindedly at them as Dogmeat padded faithfully to her side. "All right, then, Harold – and Bob slash Herbert. I'm gonna go find my family and see what I can do about your . . . predicament."

"Thank ya very much, Leah," Harold sighed in relief. His branches swayed almost joyfully. "And you can bring yer family back to Oasis any time. I like kids. Yew is the only one I really like around here. She'll sit and let me talk anytime."

"I'll be back with all of my children, then," Leah offered with a grin. She placed her thin hand against Harold's bark, where his cheek would be, and he closed his eye as if enjoying her touch. "You're a hero, Harold," she told him truthfully. "I'll see you when it's over."

"Thank you."

Leah whistled for Dogmeat to follow her and strode past Harold through the meadow. The lush grass was dotted here and there with puddles of green, irradiated water. She stepped around one such puddle and pushed open a set of double wooden gates.

Her entire family was waiting for her outside. RJ had challenged Éclair to a wrestling match and they were locked limb-for-limb, rolling back and forth through the grass and landing messily in an irradiated puddle. Peter had Lucy's rifle strewn across his lap and was showing her how to stop it from jamming on her. Nova sat on a log behind Princess, lithe fingers weaving her long, orange hair into a braid. Gob was next to her, surreptitiously peeking over at Nova's cleavage while pretending to listen to Zip prattle on about nonsense. Fawkes was lying on his back in the middle of the meadow, watching sunlight filter down through the silhouettes of the branches above. Bumble was trying to climb a nearby tree, her tiny body nimbly attaching to the tree trunk. Charon was standing beneath her with his arms outstretched, ready in case she fell.

Dogmeat took off at once to run at Sammy, who he had taken a strange liking to. He tackled the boy to the ground and licked happily at his face, making Sammy laugh and push him off.

"Hey, mungo," Billy greeted Leah with a grin. "What's the hap?"

Leah smiled as Charon's head snapped up to see her. "I'm not sure yet. I need to talk to Birch."

"Enough of this, Bumble," Charon rumbled sternly. The girl nodded at once and clambered back down the branches to the trunk, where he easily disentangled her thin limbs and set her down onto the ground. Charon turned and walked over toward Leah, raising the remains of an eyebrow at her. "What do you need?"

"Where's Birch?" she asked, falling into the matter-of-fact tone she used for getting business done.

"Let us go find him," he offered. He took her hand and gestured toward the Pavilion. "The children will be safe here."

They marched through another grove back to the wooden gazebo. Tree Father Birch was sitting beside an old, black woman in identical robes. They were in the middle of a heated argument, if the tension in the air and the rushed, frustrated tones of their voices meant anything.

"It seems, my husband," the woman murmured tersely, "that we are once again at an impasse. We should speak to the outsiders."

"Yes, I suppose we should," Birch replied in a clipped tone. They rose to their feet and Birch moved ahead to speak to them while his wife remained behind.

"Harold wants me to kill him," Leah blurted out before he could say anything. She felt Charon stiffen in confusion beside her.

"Yes, He has been asking that for quite some time now," Birch answered flippantly, "but He is merely testing you. I came to you for help because His influence is quickly spreading with the Harvest Month of every year, when the seeds blossom and spread. If other outsiders learn of His powers, they will surely come and try to take over Oasis. We cannot afford that risk. Please, I beg of you, take this." He pulled a small bottle from his pocket and shoved it into Leah's hands. "Bring it into the underground caves and apply it to His heart. He will continue to live, but he will no longer seed and grow, so that our settlement here may remain sacred and apart from the rest of the Wasteland. I trust you will do the right thing." He bowed his head and pushed past them.

Leah, Charon, and Birch's wife watched the old man leave. The woman then cleared her throat and stepped forward. "My name is Leaf Mother Laurel. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier."

"It's fine," Leah muttered, "I'm Leah and this is my fiancé Charon."

"An honor to meet you both," Laurel whispered with a smile. "Anyone who He allows into his heart, I surely will, too." Her smile fell. "I love Birch, but sometimes he fails to see the big picture. His Harvest Month is not a curse, but a blessing. If He continues to seed, and to grow, He can return life to the land that has been ravished by war. It would be selfish of us to try and keep it to ourselves. He has a gift, one that we must share with the world. I know He has asked you to kill Him. I understand His suffering." She let out a small moan then, as if physically pained to speak of it. "But there are bigger things to think about. Please, apply _this_ instead to His heart." She offered Leah a round vial of pleasant, light green liquid, which the Lone Wanderer took. "It will not only continue His growing, it will quicken it. Think of the possibilities, what He can do for our world." Laurel paused, closing her eyes briefly. "Whatever your decision, I will understand." She nodded once and then turned around and returned to a log bench, where another old woman was sitting.

"Wow." Leah looked up at Charon, nibbling on her bottom lip. "That's a lot of options to think about."

"Kill him, make him stop growing, or make his growing faster," Charon ticked off with a shake of his head.

"I feel sorry for him," she confessed. "Stuck here for twenty years already with nothing to do but listen to these crazy people worship him all day. Making him stop growing is obviously not an option. It doesn't help the Wasteland _or_ Harold."

"Yes, that is rather stupid," Charon agreed dryly. "But what do you propose?"

"What do _you_ think?"

"Personally, I say we give him the liniment to make him grow faster. I know it will increase his suffering, but it offers so much more for the Wasteland."

Leah smiled sadly. "That was my choice, too."

"Then it is settled." He offered her his arm and she slid hers through it. "Are we both going into the caves?"

"I was actually wondering if I could sit and talk with Harold," she admitted guiltily. "If you don't mind."

"Not at all. I would rather you stay out of danger anyways."

Leah speared him with an exasperated look as she slid the bottle of liniment into his back pocket. "_Charon_."

"Smoothskin." He gave her a shit-eating grin. "Harold needs the company. I will journey down."

"Mmn," she hummed reluctantly as they rejoined their family in the meadow. "Hey, why don't you take a couple of the kids? I'm sure they'd love to come. The rest of us can have lunch in the Grove with Harold."

The children heard that proposal and they all perked up in excitement. Amid shouts of "me, me, me!" and "Charon, pick me!" and "Pops, over here!" Leah snickered and pulled away from her fiancé.

"Quiet!" Charon roared and the children all obeyed at once. He rubbed his temples, shaking his head. She _had_ to suggest he take the kids. . . . "You . . . and you," Charon barked, nodding at RJ and Peter as he slung his shotgun over his shoulder. "Let's go."

"_Yesss_!" RJ hissed in triumph. He fell into step with his assault rifle and Peter joined him with another shotgun.

"Oh, suck it up, you babies," Leah scolded the other children, who had all started to pout at once. "Grab your bags and let's go have a picnic with a talking tree."

That brought back all the excitement and the rest of them filed into the Grove past the wooden gates.

* * *

"Why, hell-oo," a man in the Oasis robes greeted the three with a dreamy, faraway voice.

Charon grunted, "Hello. We need to reach the underground caves."

The branchtender blinked slowly and took in the three of them, decked out in armor, high-quality weapons at their sides. "I see you are well enough equipped. Beware the swamp beasts that rest within."

"Those swamp beasts can fuckin' _beware_ us," RJ quipped with a smirk.

"Language," Charon reminded him sharply. He then nodded at the branchtender. "Yes, we wish to go down."

"Here is the key. I wish you a safe return."

Charon took the key from him and slid it into the knob of a wooden door set into the face of a small cliff. He shoved it open and stepped through first, blinking to get his eyes accustomed to the darkness. "Peter, close that door behind you."

"On it, Pops." Peter slid the door closed, wincing as it gave a painful creak, and then dusted his hands off on his combat armor. "Yeesh. Could that guy have sounded any _more_ ominous?"

"Not of his stupid tree god depended on it."

"What are swamp beasts anyways?"

"I assume mirelurks," Charon answered, peering around him through the darkness. They were surrounded by the sound of dripping water, and their combat boots sank a few inches into damp soil. The cavern walls were not very high, just barely tall enough for Charon to walk at his full height, and just wide enough for them to walk side-by-side. They started down the steep slope, their pathway illuminated only by a sparse number of dull torches.

"Stay close," he rumbled sternly to the boys behind him. One of his boots hit something solid and he quickly threw an arm out to stop his followers as he took a step back. "Shit," he growled. "Don't look."

"Eugh. Too late, Pops," Peter groaned, clutching at his stomach as he took in the body of a dead branchtender below them.

"Gnarly," RJ said with a chuckle.

"Just walk around him, and keep an eye out. Something killed that man."

They proceeded, the boys moving a little more warily as they went. The path tapered off toward the right cavern wall, the left side breaking off into a deep pool of clear water so irradiated that the boys could feel it prickling against their skin.

"Here," RJ said, stopping to pull his bag from his shoulder. He rummaged around and came up with a bottle of Rad-X.

"Thanks," Peter muttered, popping the lid off and tossing back a couple of the small pills.

Charon waited for RJ to do the same before gesturing them onward. "Thank you, RJ. The last thing I want to do is watch you two vomit like I had to watch Leah."

"You watched her _vomit_?" RJ asked in a hushed voice. He let out a cackle. "Hilarious! I wish I coulda seen that."

The ghoul smirked. "Apparently she is not a fan of boats. Wait." He stopped them both and pressed a finger to his lips. They waited in silence until the sound of clawed feet stomping over damp ground broke the quiet. RJ grinned excitedly.

"Remember to go for the face," Charon informed them just above a whisper. "Impress me, my sons."

The two boys filtered past Charon on the narrow pathway with their weapons at the ready. He fell into step behind them, just in case. His assistance was unnecessary.

RJ let loose a barrage of bullets into the mirelurk's back to draw its attention. He then ducked down, allowing Peter to blast the beast three times in the face with his sawed-off shotgun, effectively bringing it down.

"Nice!" The boys shared a high-five of victory before Charon nudged them onward.

"Keep going. I am hungry and I want to get this over with."

The boys grumbled impatiently and did as they were told. They gave Charon shit all the time, but when there was any risk of actual danger, they were completely obedient – partly because he really knew what he was doing and kept them alive, and partly because they did not want to risk his serious wrath once they'd made it out.

"Pops – the path ends."

"What?"

"Look. It's gone."

Charon inched carefully past them to see that, indeed, the pathway hit a dead end against another cavern wall. He glanced around with keen eyesight, taking everything in, and noticed through the eerily clear water that there was a small valley in the rock face near the bottom of the water. He cursed under his breath. "Stay here while I take a look," he ordered before diving into the water so smoothly that the two boys were not splattered with a single drop.

RJ and Peter exchanged an incredulous glance before edging ever so slightly closer together. They played tough, but without Charon the cave seemed just a little bit scarier. Okay, a lot scarier.

Charon blinked past the discomfort of water in his eyes, and propelled himself down the small break in the cavern wall. It opened up into another pool of water and he swam to the surface, inhaling a big breath in relief. This part of the cavern led to another hallway, which would probably house Harold's heart. He sighed, took another deep breath, and swam back to the boys.

RJ and Peter both jumped, startled, when Charon's head poked out of the water near them. "Can you two swim?" he rumbled.

"Can we – of course we can swim!" RJ snapped indignantly. "We _lived_ in a cave, remember, Pops?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, you never know," he growled, a phrase he'd picked up from Leah over time. "Then take another Rad-X and follow me."

They did as he said and dropped into the water, swimming to the other side. Wet and uncomfortable, they lifted themselves onto the opposite ledge. Four cavern rooms and five mirelurks later, they broke out into a large opening. In the middle of this room was a large pillar of branches and roots that led all the way to the ceiling. Within this nest of wood was nestled a large, pink organ, pumping healthily away.

Harold's heart.

Charon approached the large organ, pulling the bottle from his back pocket. He unscrewed the top and dipped his hand into the cool, thick substance. Steeling himself with a deep breath, thinking, not for the first time in his life since meeting Leah, that this was an experience he hoped never to relive, he lifted his hand and smeared the liniment all over the man-tree's heart. The reaction had all three of them backing away as Harold's heart began to beat in double-time. When its pace did not begin to increase and they were certain it wouldn't explode all over them, Charon turned around and wiped his hands off on his armor. "Let's leave. I've had about enough of this shit."

* * *

The three of them rejoined their family in the Grove. The sun had fallen into the darkness and the entire family was situated in groups out on tattered blankets. Harold seemed content and Leah explained to Charon in low murmurs that she'd given him the hard truth. He'd been upset at first, but had slowly warmed up to the idea. It was the best option for the entire Capital Wasteland. He'd been selfish to want otherwise.

"Besides," she added with a soft smile that sent shivers down Charon's spine like hot and greedy fingers, "it looks like he's made a friend."

Charon followed her gaze to the base of Harold's trunk, where Dogmeat had curled up to sleep. "It would be a crime to separate them," he grunted in a gruff, reluctant admission.

"It would," she agreed with a sigh. "It's the least we can do for Harold after the good he will do for the Wasteland. But I'll miss the little guy."

"I as well."

There was a long, comfortable moment of silence before she spoke again. "Tree Father Birch has offered us all a place to sleep for the night," she informed him in a _too_ casual tone of voice as she traced the rim of a whiskey bottle with her fingertip. She lifted that finger to her lips and her pink tongue flashed out to lick the remains of the liquor from her skin. Her blue eyes rolled ever so slowly up to meet his. "Oddly enough, there's a private grove just small enough to accommodate two."

Charon had already grabbed her by the hand and yanked her to her feet.

"Where are you –?" Gob began in confusion.

Charon cut him off with a growl. "I have something to attend to, and if anyone interrupts, I will make sure they never _attend_ to anything for the rest of their life," he threatened.

There was collective laughter, even a choked out laugh from Harold, as they all watched the couple disappear from the Grove. Many of the children were curled up on the blankets, sleeping, and Nova giggled softly where she sat nestled against Gob, who was somehow not as amused.

"Dick."

* * *

They burst into the small grove with limbs intertwined, barely coherent enough to slam the small wooden gate closed behind them. Charon threw Leah down onto the wide patchwork of a makeshift bed, eliciting a squeal of delighted surprise.

"It's going to be a long trip," she gasped, tearing at the buckles of his armor with trembling fingers. "I need this."

"You and I both," he growled. He bunched his hands in the material of her shirt and ripped it down the middle, sending buttons flying all around them. The rough skin of his hands burned against her skin as he skimmed her torso from her rib cage to the small of her back to her hips, where he grabbed her and yanked her to the edge of the bed, closer to his body. She draped her thighs around his hips and breathed a shaky sigh as his mouth found the tender skin of her collarbone. Her fingers bunched in the remaining red hair on his head. One of his hands pressed between the balls of her shoulders, keeping her pressed flush against his bare chest, while the other did god knew what. She couldn't concentrate on anything above the sensation of his lips hot around the hardened nub of a nipple. He moved from one to the other, as if deciding which he liked better. By the time he'd settled on the left one, Leah had the pleasure of discovering his stray hand had been freeing his erection from his pants. He shoved her skirt up, tore her underwear down and slid into her so quickly that it took her breath away.

"_Yes_," she breathed through swollen lips, locking her ankles behind his back. Her fingernails dug into the hard muscle of his shoulders, drawing blood as he rolled his hips out and thrust hard back in. Her entire body was rippling with pleasure, from the crown of her head down to her curling toes; Charon was all she'd ever want and all she'd ever need and jesus, he was _so big_. She gasped as she felt his teeth sink into the flesh of her shoulder, firm enough to sting, but not enough to break skin and he was _so good_ at that, getting so close to breaking the line and yet never actually hurting her, not as his hands gripped her hips tightly enough to bruise or as he shoved into her again, and _again_, hard enough for her to feel him in every inch of her.

Charon released her skin from his teeth, nearly drowning in how much pleasure he was feeling, dipping again and again into the body that had brought him so much ecstasy, the body of the love of his fucking life; he'd follow her to the ends of the earth and oh _oh_, if she bucked against him like that once more, he'd follow her into the ninth goddamn circle of _hell_. He found her collarbone once again and sucked at the skin there, probably giving her a nice dark bruise and _fuck it_, she could hide it under a T-shirt and who even _cared_ if anyone knew how good this was. He would tell the entire world how hard he fucked the love of his life because sex like this should be boasted about from the highest goddamn rooftops.

"_Charon_," Leah moaned, rubbing the heel of a palm against her forehead, her other hand tangling in her hair because she had to _do something_ with her hands before her entire body exploded from the energy of such pleasure.

Her ghoul grinned wildly, releasing her hips to grab her wrists and pin them down on either side of her face, forcing her to open her eyes and gape up at him in speechless rapture. With the leverage of his hold on her arms, he was able to nudge her legs upward and shove into her harder, each push _deeper_, and he exchanged the rough fucking for slow, languid thrusts, which was just as good if not even better. She could feel each ridge of uneven skin roll past the sensitive lips of her core and he knew it and goddamn it, it was the best fucking feeling in the world.

He brought her wrists up above her face and trapped them there with one hand so that he could cup her face with the other and tilt her head up to kiss her. Her whimpers were muffled against his lips and she kissed him as best she could, clumsy from passion, her body rocking with each thrust he drove into her. It was like this, her legs clamped around his hips, arms pinned above her head, their lips pressed hard against each other, that she was tipped over the edge.

The burning, rolling, _searing_ pleasure building within her finally let loose and her cries of ecstasy were lost against his mouth as she reached climax. Charon pulled away and dipped his head against her throat as she tightened around him, almost _painfully_ so, but oh god, it was so good, so fucking good, and it was too late for him to turn back. He pushed into her once, twice, for the last time and then he was coming with a strangled sigh, softened against the sweat-slick skin of her shoulder.

Leah sighed, and the sound was so content, so exhausted, so _satisfied_ that he couldn't help but let out a deep, fatigued chuckle against her skin.

"My sentiments exactly, smoothskin," he groaned, pushing himself up on his hands.

Her lips twisted up into a smile as she looked up at him, blue eyes deep as the sea, filled with emotion. She pressed her hands against his face, soft skin against exposed muscle. "I love you."

"Love you, too. Er . . . you might want to move."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Because I am going to collapse, and I do not wish to crush you."

"Ah." She wriggled out from under him with a grimace as her sore muscles made their abuse known. The instant she was out of the way, Charon dropped down onto the bed, bouncing slightly on the odd, scratchy material.

"What is this?" he complained angrily, scrutinizing the odd stitching of the bed sheets beneath his cheek.

"I don't know, but it left one hell of a pattern imprinted on my ass," Leah bitched, rolling over to show him her behind.

"Hmmm. Hmmmmm." Charon rubbed his chin, leaning in closer to inspect her skin. "An odd imprint indeed. Yes. Hmm." His eyes widened and he clutched her hips to keep her from moving. "Wait."

"What is it?" she cried out in fear, glancing over her shoulder. "Charon?"

"Just . . . wait."

Her fearful expression melted into a scowl. "Goddamn it, you're just checking out my butt!"

"Your perception is unparalleled."

"Yeah and so will your bruise be if you don't let my ass go."

Charon released her with a smirk and she glowered at him. "You think you're so goddamn clever."

"And yet you're not leaving. Come." He gestured toward his chest and reluctantly, fitfully, she settled against him. "I am tired. You can berate me in the morning. We have much to discuss anyways."

"My ass."

"If you really want to, smoothskin, but I was under the impression that we had enough of that tonight."

". . . I hate you."

"Love you, too, smoothskin. For the rest of my life."


	29. Sunsets

The good folk of Oasis all stood at the entrance of their small town. The new beast they'd inherited sat faithfully at their heels, long tongue lolling out of his huge grin as he, too, bid farewell to his old family.

The girl – the leader of them, it seemed – sent the dog a longing glance over her shoulder. She turned around and started walking backwards, sporting a sad smile. The bunches of flowers she'd picked were clasped tightly in her hands, her black hair strung up into a messy ponytail. Her blue eyes sparkled at her old friend and the dog knew, in his little doggy heart, that she would miss him, and he would miss her.

The ghoul noticed her lollygagging and grabbed her shoulder to turn her around, leaning down to grumble something in her ear. She bit her lip, nodded dutifully, sent Dogmeat one last farewell smile, then turned around and followed her bustling family to the vertibirds.

They all clambered into their flying machines, with not a little bit of shouting and wrestling and arguments. Their great propellers started to turn and the machines lifted into the air, soaring over the edges of the rock face and disappearing.

* * *

Maggie hadn't stopped running her fingers through the bright, spring-colored flowers for the past ten minutes. And Joseph hadn't stopped smirking. He shot a look at his honorary father, a look full of all the arrogance, confidence, and skill that he'd been taught, and Charon grinned right back. There were some things you didn't have to be blood to inherit.

Joseph waved his family goodbye – from little Bumble to Fawkes, who stomped over the catwalks with enough force to make them tremble – and was promptly ushered upstairs by a suddenly very affectionate Maggie Creel.

It wasn't until he heard the beating of the vertibirds' propellers overhead that he realized he would miss them – all of them, every last person.

But he had his own family now, one that he was honor-bound to serve and protect. He would see Leah and the rest again. When the time was right.

* * *

Rockfowl hit the gas hard, cursing when the truck nearly careened out of control. The soft giggle beside him was enough to get him smiling. That smile was promptly smothered and banished from his face, before she could see. Damn him to hell, here he was, falling for another Vault Girl with cute dimples and a great body. Would he never learn?

Then again, he supposed, glancing over to see Amata staring at him, maybe this time he'd have better luck. Maybe this time things would go right. Just this once.

And, as Amata blushed and murmured something offhandedly and quickly looked away, Rockfowl allowed himself that smile, because if Leah had taught him anything, it had been that if you want something bad enough, you tried your hardest until you fucking get it. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he released the wheel with one hand and hunted along the seat beside him until it found hers.

Amata inhaled a soft gasp, and then, wonder of wonders, she laced her fingers through his.

Things were looking up. They really fucking were.

* * *

Sarah Lyons sat in the corner of the solar, a set of holotags dangling from her index finger. She watched them turn and catch the artificial light, glinting elegantly, piercingly bright. She'd been sitting there for who knew how long. Her ass had probably left an imprint in the battered pink chair by now. Things had settled down with the Brotherhood. The Brothers had their orders, they had their supplies, and they had the motivation to get it all done.

So here she was, holding up a pair of goddamn holotags like a sheet-white flag of surrender. Her life was getting the best of her. She'd realized that over all this time, thinking about everything. Life, love, strength, power, success. Leah Rose Montgomery was all of those things. Now that Leah was gone, it was _Sarah's_ job to step up as Biggest Badass of the Capital Wasteland. If not for her father, if not for Vargas, at the very least for Leah.

Her fist clamped down around the holotags, feeling the metal edges, before she slid the chain around her neck. The holotags landed over her heart, thrumming with energy, with life . . . with Vargas' memory. She set her shoulders, tossed her hair back, and marched right out of the solar. She immediately started throwing around orders: write down _this_, plot out _that_, hightail it _here_ and help _this person _with _that_. She was equal parts terrifying and breathtaking, and the Brothers knew right away that the ice queen was back.

And, as they scrambled to do as she said to the best of their abilities in fear of an intense verbal lashing, they all realized that they'd missed her. They'd missed her a lot.

* * *

Desmond Lockheart sauntered into the sad excuse of a bar, a sneer already on his face. God, this town was such a pisshole. He took a seat at a table in the darkest corner and crossed his legs. He smoothed the scrap of paper out onto the splintered wood of the table, reread the two inoffensive words there with skeptical eyes.

He'd been tracking the name on the paper for a week already, passing through shithole town after shithole town, asking the brainless descendents of inbreeding and radiation if they'd seen him. Some said yes. Some said no. The ones that said they had provided him with mixed opinions: he was a godsend, he was a prick. A lot of women attested to the man's angelic good grace. The men reluctantly admitted that he'd helped their town. He'd inspired fawning from women and rabid jealousy from men.

Desmond reread the name on the paper and wanted to spit. He hated the man already, with a fiery fucking passion. It was a big name, an arrogant name, just like his, and apparently the man had a knack for doing just the things Desmond did best: make women want him, and make men want to _be_ him.

And if there was _anything_ that Desmond could say he hated the most, it was people that reminded him of himself.

With a rough sigh, he pocketed the piece of paper. He needed a drink and a tight young thing to spend his night with before this stress got to him. In fact, if he didn't get a whiskey and a waitress in his shitty motel room within the next five minutes he was quite positive he would drop over dead from neglect.

With perfect timing, a thin blonde with thick lips spotted him from across the bar. She was bending over to attend to two patrons at a table, giving him a rather fantastic view of her ass. Green eyes shifted out of the corner of her eyes to meet his.

Desmond smirked; not just any smirk, the _Desmond_ smirk, the one that had gotten him hundreds, perhaps thousands of women. It didn't let him down tonight. The girl seemed to forget that she'd been helping customers and sashayed appealingly over to Desmond's table. She licked an elegant finger to turn to the next page in her notepad. "Can I get you something?" she asked in the sultry, sweet voice of a woman allured.

Desmond almost laughed. There were times where he simply could not describe how much he loved his life. "You can get me a couple of things, sweetheart," he drawled, regarding her with cold appreciation, "but one or two of them may not be on your menu. Why don't we just start with a whiskey?"

"Sounds good," she agreed softly, her lips pulling up into a smile. "For a start."

* * *

McGraw sat at his new desk, scratching confusedly at his head. _Stupid Vault Girl_. He was absolutely swamped in paperwork: maps and tech reports and proposals for new recon trips. And it was all her fault.

But he had to admit, grudgingly, that it felt good to be relied on again for a job, to have a purpose. And, he supposed, as Knight Captain Durga closed the door to his office behind her and scraped all of his work off of his desk, as she pulled him by the collar on top of her across the metal surface, as her thighs closed around his hips and their lips met, the perks for this job . . . well, they weren't half bad.

* * *

The people of Underworld were all gathered at Carol's, filling her small rooms with boisterous laughter and loud, happy conversation. Tulip had given Winthrop a camera the other day and the excited ghoul had been unable to stop tinkering with it, taking tons of pictures much to the other ghouls' irritation. The pictures were all splayed out now across Carol's table, between beer bottles and bowls of noodles.

"Here, here," Willow giggled hoarsely, picking up one particular picture, "here's one of Tulip yelling at him!"

"_Most_ of them are of people yelling at him," Quinn chuckled. "Nobody likes their picture taken."

"Nobody but you and your smoothskin," Carol remarked fondly. "Glad to have you here, sweetie."

Moira beamed in pride. "Oh, thank you, Carol. It's been so nice meeting all of you."

"Look!" Tulip interrupted, a little loud in her inebriation, "one of Barrows and Patches!" She laughed.

"Yeah," Barrows interjected gruffly, "one of me patchin' his ass back together again."

Carol almost felt tears come to her eyes as they all erupted into laughter once more. They were her family, and they were together, safe. She put an arm around Greta's shoulders and kissed the woman's temple lovingly.

Everything was all right.

* * *

Butch DeLoria traced the rim of his shotglass, thoughtful, absentminded. The drunken slut of the Muddy Rudder sat down across from him, startling him from his reverie. He tossed her his normal five caps, sneering as he readied himself to tell her to get lost like usual.

"Keep 'em," she quipped with a smirk, sliding the caps back toward him. "I'd like a different poison tonight."

Butch blinked at her, vodka slowing his mind, and then he put two and two together and was smiling back at her. "Everybody goes for the Butch-man."

Trinnie got up with a snort, nodding toward the back room. "Yeah, the Butch-man better hurry up – before I _sober_ up."

He couldn't argue with that.

* * *

Leah flipped the auto pilot on and leaned back, propping her feet up on the dash. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed her suspicion that everyone had long since fallen asleep. Even Fawkes, cramped in the very back of the vertibird as he was, had tumbled into a peaceful slumber.

Content that they were headed in the right direction, and that everyone was happily sleeping away, Leah rummaged through her bag until she found her father's Pip-Boy, a pad of paper, a pencil, and a pair of headphones. She popped the headphones in and connected them to the jack in the Pip-Boy. She lazily scrolled through the various recordings and chose where she'd left off last.

". . . some of the toughest people you'll come across, sweetheart. . . ."

She couldn't help but smile at the sound of her father's soothing voice.

"Even tougher than you, maybe . . . certainly tougher than your old man. They're called the Great Khans. Not a group of people to mess with, but they mean well – if you overlook the drug running. . . ."

Leah started scribbling down notes, the headline _Great Khans_ and little bullet points after that as her father murmured on and on. Her feet began to ache and she switched positions, curling them up onto the passenger seat instead. Rain began to fall in small patters on the vertibird, but she was too engrossed to notice. It wasn't until it was a full downpour that she was roused from her little New Vegas faction lesson. She set everything down and took control of the vertibird once more, squinting through the window for Charon's vessel.

The great dark silhouette of Charon's vertibird zoomed ahead of hers through the pouring rain. Its main guns appeared at the forefront, followed quickly by the sound of missiles being loosed. Leah gasped as the projectiles hit ground in a huge explosion. She could just make out the body of a super mutant flying through the air through the rain and black smoke. The two vertibirds pulled through the cloud into clear air.

Charon was smirking at her from the cabin of his vertibird. She couldn't help but give him the laugh he wanted. She pointed a thumb over her shoulder and then placed her hands against her cheek, closing her eyes. _They're all asleep._

He nodded wordlessly and jerked his head over his shoulder. _Mine, too._ He paused, then gestured at the air in front of them and cocked the remains of an eyebrow at her. _We still going the right direction?_

Leah glanced down at her Pip-Boy and nodded back at him. _On-point._

Charon nodded to acknowledge that. Then he smiled at her, one of his rare, heartbreaker smiles that sent chills down her spine, and there weren't enough words in the world to translate what that smile was saying to her.

Leah gave him a smile back that said just as much.

And on they went, over the ruined land, over the blood-soaked earth, together, into another adventure the likes of which they could never anticipate – and would never forget.


	30. Epilogue

The Courier sipped his drink. High-quality stuff – and he fucking hoped so, given how much it had fucking cost for one glass of vodka. He listened to the crappy music and bided his time, entertained some of the ladies that passed with his golden smile, gave the men a respectful nod of acknowledgement.

New Vegas was his kind of place, he decided, better than the boonies through southern Nevada and California. Maybe he'd drop this whole Courier gig, especially after the kind of shit he'd gotten in because of it. He could be so much better, an entertainer, a singer even maybe. He had the looks. Hell, he even had the voice. Women already swooned over him. If he took the mic at the Tops every night, they'd be throwing their underwear at him on stage.

The Courier was just savoring that sweet, sweet image . . . when _he_ strolled in, wearing that _stupid fucking outfit_, amid a group of his goons, laughing at a joke he'd probably told – and probably wasn't even funny. But the goons all laughed with him, because he was their paycheck.

The Courier struggled against vivid memories, fighting back the ghosts of emotion.

* * *

He slid skillfully out through Sunny Smiles' door. The girl was smoking hot, and a great lay, but he wasn't really an overnight kind of guy. She'd understand. They all did, eventually.

He lit himself a congratulatory cigarette and moseyed in the direction of the cemetery, his pack strapped to a shoulder. He was glad to be kissing Goodsprings goodbye. Bad trade, worse booze . . . shit, Sunny Smiles was the saving grace for this town and he thanked his lucky stars that she was there.

He had a tiny package to deliver. A weird package. A strange package. But it was a package and he was a courier and he would do his job. He just needed a stop every now and then for supplies and he could not have found a shittier one than Goodsprings. Good fucking riddance. At least he'd been able to dip his wick.

Grumbling to himself, he began hiking up the hill toward the lit cemetery. The fluttering wings of two bloatflies had him drawing his .44 magnum. He aimed and popped off two shots, hitting them both straight in the head. A lot of things could be said about his personality, his morals, his vices, but he was a damned fucking good shot. The haters could suck his dick. And if the haters looked anything like Sunny Smiles, he might even enjoy it.

He nearly tripped on another godforsaken rock and ducked down to balance his weight; many things happened in rapid succession. The whoosh of motion sounded overhead, the consequent gust of air ruffled his hair, and somebody rumbled a gruff curse behind him.

The Courier twisted out of the way, pulling up his gun again. He pulled the trigger and shot down one of his three assailants. His crouched stance tripped him up and he landed on his ass, losing him a precious second to defend himself. He was hit over the head with a rock, and everything went black.

When he woke back up, his ankles and wrists were bound together and he had a headache that could cripple a behemoth. He pushed himself painfully up onto his hands and knees and peered through squinted eyes up at his attackers.

To see Benny fucking Gecko. Oh, he was in for it. Look at him, so fucking smug, and he had that 9mm dildo shoved in his voice, going on about 'the game' and how it was 'rigged from the start.'

The Courier gritted his teeth. He felt no fear, no regret for his sins, no 'what if's or 'I shouldn't have's. Just really fucking pissed off. _Shoot me already, stuff that dainty sad excuse of a gun into your purse, and leave with the one boytoy you have left before I get really mad._

Finally, Benny placed the cool barrel against his forehead, sunk his last one-liner, and pulled the trigger.

Darkness.

* * *

So the Courier downed his drink, slammed the glass back down onto the table, and watched. Watched like he'd been watching for weeks, maybe even months by now, because Benny Gecko was going to get his comeuppance, and when he did, it was going to be so fucking great that the entire Mojave Desert would know the moment it happened.

He'd show the world what happened to guys that _fuck_ with Masnie Sinclair.

* * *

**That's two down, folks. A lot of thanks to give out, so bear with me here.**

**As always, to Simmony, who sits and listens to me chatter endlessly about what Leah and Charon and Desmond (mmm, Desmond) are up to, and who has fallen in love with these characters, both mine and Bethesda's, without even having played the game. She gets just as excited about all their shenanigans as I do, and for that I love her.**

**To Pattyn, who has encouraged, inspired, and flattered me throughout the entirety of my little series - as it stands now - a huge, _huge_ thank you. You've made all of this possible. Keep on writing and best of luck to you, no matter what you do.**

**To DaLover, who has trailed faithfully after each chapter with a praising review. What would I have done without you? You're the absolute best! Thank you thank you thank you for all of your loving words. They mean more to me than I can say.**

**To everyone who has reviewed, put me on an alert or favorite list, or even just read a single chapter (even if you gave up after the first one!) a tremendous thank you. You're what authors live for, fanfic or not. Thank you.**

**Lastly, a sort of game. In Revelation alone, I have quoted _The Godfather _(1972)_, Clue _(1985)_, _and, quite obviously, _Mass Effect_. In the interview at the end of Hired Help, I quoted the closing lines of two movies at the end. If you can find all those quotes, and name the two movies, you would be a god among men (or goddess, mutatis mutandis) and I will grant all of your wishes and fulfill all your deepest, darkest fantasies (yes, even the one with the rocking horse... yeah, I know about that one). Best of luck.**

**Thanks to all of you - and I'll see you in New Vegas.**

**P.S. Just finished the Dead Money DLC and I absolutely _loved_ it. Masnie Sinclair happens to love treasure and casinos. Make of that what you will. **


End file.
